


Volume One: Found

by alphaparrot



Series: The Downbelow [1]
Category: John Mulaney - Fandom, RWBY, Temtem (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pokemon, Alternate Universe - Temtem, Blood and Injury, Bumbleby (background), Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Day 7: Free Day/AU, F/F, F/M, Family Loss, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, Missing Persons, POV Multiple, Podfic Available, Pokemon, Raven is trying, Renora (background), Road Trips, Secondary location, Slow Burn, Street smarts, Swearing, Temtem, This started out as a joke, Violence, fairgameweek2020, how did it end up like this, if you don't know about Temtem that is, john mulaney - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaparrot/pseuds/alphaparrot
Summary: In an alternate version of Remnant, where pokemon-like temtem are a normal part of life, a new recruit to the Atlesian military finds himself thrust into an existential global conflict that he definitely didn't sign up for. He was just in it to meet people and make jokes. And now he's lost his shoelace...
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Raven Branwen/Vernal
Series: The Downbelow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923118
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	1. Janmu's Temtem Field Notes

**Author's Note:**

> This all started when [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) started planning her fics for RWBY Fair Game Week 2020 and asked me and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) to guess her AU choice. Her hint was that we had talked a lot about it in our group chat. So I scrolled. And scrolled. And I settled on three major topics: John Mulaney, Temtem (a new pokemon-like MMO, go check it out), and Critical Role (D&D). D&D was close, but both she and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) thought John Mulaney and Temtem would both make great choices, and as she and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) were already writing fics and I was not, I should do it. So I figured, hey why not, and then I sort of... got carried away. So many thanks to them; their beta reading was essential and this literally would never have started without them peer pressuring me into it. I have big plans for this fic... so number of total chapters tbd. I'm going to aim to post a chapter every week or two, until I feel satisfied that I've done the story justice.
> 
> A podfic version is being recorded, and is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/album/the-downbelow-volume-1-found>.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prologue-like appendix to "The Downbelow", and is meant to help you, the reader, understand what is being referred to when a temtem is mentioned. Temtem is a Pokemon-inspired MMO with its own set of species, and is still in early-access, so most people have neither heard of it nor played it. But I think it fits with RWBY shockingly well, which is why I stuck with what started as a joking dare. I will include excerpts from this "field guide" at the end of each chapter. If you don't care to look through this and just want to get on with it, the real story begins in the next chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> All temtem images are the intellectual property of Humble Bundle, Inc. and were created by Crema. Many thanks to them for creating this great content.

# Janmu's Field Guide to Temtem

A brief summary of the temtem I, Janmu Laney, have observed, and the things I observed about them. Enjoy. I guess. If this is the sort of literature that gets you going. I suppose it might be useful if you've never seen a temtem and then someone tells you a story full of temtem. These are all the temtem I've encountered on my various visits with relatives, hikes, vacations, etc. I figured it'd be a good idea to keep a journal of them. Each sketch or picture I've included is the normal color morph; there _are_ rare "luma" color morphs, but they're rare enough that it felt weird to include them for the ones I've seen and not for the ones I haven't. 

I guess the reason I'm making these is because I've always found temtem incredibly fascinating, but until recently, they were just wildlife. And maybe it's because the Grimm make going out into the forest dangerous, but there aren't a lot of books about wildlife. At least, not in Mantle. So I had to learn by going out and finding them. The new Temcards invented by the Schnee Dust Company have however resulted in more people getting interested in temtem, so maybe collecting my observations in one place will help people get excited about them. And who knows? Maybe I'll write a book one day. And then when they introduce me at the open mic nights at the Rusty Screw, they can say, "Janmu Laney, author of _the_ authoritative work on temtem." 

* * *

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.  |   
---|---  
  
### Raiber

God I want a raiber. Fierce little guys, almost waist-high. Fiercely loyal, and tons of attitude. They have a tendency to set stuff on fire, which makes them less good in cities. Native to Vacuo, also often found in Menagerie.  |   
  
### Tuwai

Oh, yeah, Tuwais! These are neat birds. Big--each wing is nearly a metre long. Very intelligent, and while you might think they could repeat speech back at you, I tried telling one a joke once, and it just screamed at me. Oh well. They're found in tropical forests.  |   
  
### Loali

Loalis are reasonably common forest critters. You'll see them fluttering from tree to tree; about a metre and a half wide. Generally very peaceful, but if you have something sweet they might swarm you.  |   
  
### Ganki

Ugh. I wish I'd never encountered gankis. Imagine a bee, but the size of a cat, and able to _generate its own fucking electricity_. Yeah. Don't let that fucking smile fool you; these are vindictive monsters that only want to cause you pain and misery. Fuckers.  |   
  
### Nessla

These show up occasionally near fishing villages. Nesslas are huge--they can get up to 10 metres long. Biggest I've seen was off the coast of Argus, maybe 6 or 7 metres long. Supposedly they get bigger the colder the water is. Real talk: if local officials tell you one of these is around, _don't go swimming_. They hunt fish by releasing huge bursts of electricity into the water and eating the stunned fish. Unless you want to get cooked from the inside, stay the fuck away from Nesslas.  |   
  
### Zephyruff

Okay, I get that they're cute, and fit in the palm of your hand, but seriously? Zephyruffs are one of the most venomous flying temtems. A single sneeze and you get gassed. Fortunately they're very rare. They nest on cliffs near Argus. On an unrelated note, never visit your aunt in Argus.  |   
  
### Spriole

I. Just cannot. These are so fucking cute. They're called sprioles, and they're little bundles of cuteness. They're the size of a grapefruit, _incredibly_ fluffy, and very playful. These are the juvenile form of the deendre. They're found in large deendre herds, and while they're _very cute_ , I have to say that picking them up to play with them _will_ get you in trouble. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  |   
  
### Deendre

This is a deendre. About a metre at the shoulder, leaf-like antlers, relatively harmless. Found in large herds; very social animals. Herbivores. This is the adult form that sprioles grow into. They're also almost always accompanies by a single cerneaf (see next entry). Be cautious when approaching; deendres are reasonably timid and mild, but cerneafs are no joke. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  |   
  
### Cerneaf

This big fella is a cerneaf. It stands about two metres at the shoulder. Giant leaf-like antlers. They seem to spend a lot of time sunbathing. I've only ever seen one at a time; they always accompany a giant herd of deendres and sprioles. If I had to guess, I'd say a deendre develops into a cerneaf when it becomes the leader of the herd. The name "cerneaf" means "guardian". and I have to say, it lives up to the name. Scary, scary things. Do not approach. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  | 


	2. Janmu's Temtem Field Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janmu wakes up, and takes stock of his surroundings. His world has just been turned upside-down, and his shoelace is missing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A podfic version of this chapter is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/track/chapter-1-shoelace>

His shoelace was missing. His shoe was still on his foot, but his shoelace was missing. Not from the right shoe, just the left shoe. Janmu didn’t know how it was possible for a single shoelace to go missing while the shoe was still on its owner’s foot, but then there seemed to be a lot he didn’t understand about the current predicament. So here he was: missing a goddamn shoelace.

Janmu looked around himself. He was seated on the ground, leaning against a metal crate. The handle on the side was embossed with the letters “S.D.C.”, and it had been digging uncomfortably into his shoulder. He shifted his posture and made a mental note to avoid that handle in the future. A short distance away was a tangled mess of metal and glass. A few wisps of smoke rose languidly from some of the larger clumps.

“Huh, that’s odd,” he thought to himself. “I don’t recall taking myself to any modern art installations. Come to think of it,” he continued inwardly, noting his surroundings, “I don’t recall any forests either!” He was, in fact, in a forest clearing, nestled into a small bed of pine needles, and as he lifted his head, he noticed the trees overhead that must have produced said pine needles. A small, black raven was perched on a nearby bough, watching him with mild interest. As he continued to look around, he noticed that some of the trees on one side of the clearing had been recently-broken, with freshly-splintered, unweathered pine shards jutting towards the sky. “Just what the hell’s going on here, anyway?” he demanded of the clearing, indignantly. The bird hopped a few inches away on the branch.

“Okay, Laney, get it together. You’re in a weird clearing in the middle of a forest that you don’t remember going to, you’re leaning against a crate you’ve never seen before, and there’s a literal goddamn mountain of smoldering metal over there. Did I get… kidnapped? Have I been taken to a secondary location?” With a grunt, Janmu picked himself up off the ground, straightened up, and resolved to get to the bottom of this. He took two steps toward the wreckage, and as his left foot lifted out of the loose shoe, it caught on the tongue, and Janmu Laney face-planted into pine-needles. As he hit the ground, an excruciating flash of pain shot through the right side of his collarbone. He let out a shocked gasp, his head swimming. As tears welled in his eyes, the world went black.

_With a horrible rending scream, the Nevermore peeled a panel from the side of the airship with its beak. First Lieutenant Amherst spun, emptied her sidearm’s clip into the horrible bird’s maw, and reached for another clip. An enormous claw slammed into the hold, spearing Amherst’s thigh, and dragged the woman along with several crates of Dust out the gaping wound in the side of the ship._

_"MAYDAY, MAYDAY!” The airship pilot screamed into his comm. “We’ve got Grimm! Help, please! Somebody help! Can anybody hear us? Dammit!” He slammed the comm down and turned back to the terrified passengers cowering against the far wall of the hold, as the Nevermore’s beak continued to ram itself further through the hole. “I need to keep this ship in the air! Somebody has to get rid of that damn thing, or we’re all dead!”_

_Private Janmu Laney looked down at his sidearm. What had seemed such a scary, dangerous weapon in training now looked ridiculous. The First Lieutenant had emptied an entire clip. Nothing. All it got her was the kind of death Janmu absolutely did not want. He looked at the weapon, this symbol of Atlesian superiority, so obviously inadequate. Oh well. It looked like he’d have to improvise._

_“Hey! Hey you, you big, dumb bird!” He shouted at the Nevermore. He fired a few shots at its beak, trying to get its attention. When the beast’s head began to swing toward him, he shouted, “Yeaaahh! Go get it!” And with a grunt, hurled the sidearm past and out of the ship._

_Instead of turning and pursuing the tiny sidearm, which he realized was perhaps a stupid thing to expect, the Nevermore reared back and slammed its claw once more into the ship, tearing out another panel---and with it the starboard engine._

_“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. The ship jerked, banked, and began to careen towards the forest below. The Nevermore scrabbled for purchase, slamming its claws again and again into the ship, trying to keep hold of its quarry. Anguished screams punctuated the rushing air and rending metal, some cutting short almost as soon as they began, as Janmu tumbled against the wall, desperately trying to avoid the piercing talons. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small sheaf of crystalline cards, each shimmering with the essence of its inhabitant. He slid them back into his pocket; sending them out now would do nothing. He reached for some cargo netting and tried to hold on as the ship continued to plummet. Looking back, he noticed that the Nevermore had managed to get its talon lodged in the floor of the hold, and seemed unable to extract itself, and furthermore in its confusion had managed to wrap its body around the nose of the airship. With a series of loud snaps and horrible grinding sounds, pine timbers punched through the remaining side panels, then were quickly shorn away by the ship’s momentum. Then, a second wave, and a flurry of branches and splinters filled the hold. Janmu raised his hands to protect his face, then doubled over as a branch slammed into his collarbone. Screaming through the pain, he crouched down, and curled up into the netting, hoping to avoid further injury. With a final groan, the top of the ship peeled away, the floor buckled, and Janmu felt himself rise into the air. As the ground rushed toward him, he noticed in a grim moment of satisfaction that the Nevermore was a few hundred yards back, impaled on a tall pine._

Oh. That. As Janmu came to, his collarbone still throbbing, he now recalled why he was here. He was Private Janmu Laney, who had just joined up a few weeks prior, and was on his first supply run. They had been attacked by a Nevermore, and the ship had gone down. He guessed that was the smoldering pile of metal and glass, and the broken trees at the edge of the clearing were probably from the ship’s descent. He must have hit the ground away from the ship and… rolled into a seated position against a crate? Perhaps hit his head on the crate? That didn’t seem right. He still didn’t fully understand how he had gone from an uncontrolled fall towards the forest floor to being seated against a crate. Nor did it explain the missing shoelace.

Slowly, this time, he lifted himself off the forest floor, pine needles sticking into his palms as he pushed himself up. He shoved his left shoe back on, and this time being careful to drag it with him in what he thought was an utterly ridiculous limp, shambled over to the wreckage. “This is how I die,” he thought to himself, “killed by Grimm while walking alone through a forest, limping like my grandmama, all because of a shoelace?? Boy, this is really the pits.”

The wreckage bore little resemblance to the airship. Mangled trusses, sheets of paneling, jumbles of wiring were all strewn across the clearing. Some smaller things had survived; he found some netting that would be useful for carrying things, and, incredibly, one of the metal water canteens that were issued with the air fleet lunch kits. It had sustained only a mild dent.

Janmu guessed that he should probably check for survivors or something, and started nudging at pieces of debris with his right shoe, the one with the shoelace still attached. Eventually, while poking around a particularly large piece of metal paneling lodged against a boulder, he noticed a bit of cloth--Atlesian white. Janmu tried to lift the panel without putting too much strain on his collarbone, but found it would not budge easily, and putting more effort into it was asking for another blackout.

Janmu took a step back, assessed the challenge before him, and decided he needed help. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and felt the slim, slick, crystalline cards, right where they were supposed to be. “Thank gods,” he thought, “if these were lost or broken, I’d be bear food by morning.” Janmu pulled out the card with the slightly worn corner, gave it a fond look, and tossed it high over his head.

“PETUNIA! COME ON OUT!” He shouted at the card. Soon after reaching the apex of its trajectory, the card began to glow, hovered a meter above the ground, and with a flash of light, was replaced by a large, lumbering tateru.

The Schnee Dust Company had developed the cards a few years back, when they had learned that certain kinds of Dust had the power to transform animals, converting their essence into information that could be stored in a small card, and reconstituted at a moment’s notice. Janmu had been an early-adopter, figuring that having a team of animal helpers always around could only be useful. It also didn’t hurt that the animals that could be captured in the cards were typically also useful in a fight. It definitely hadn’t hurt his application to the Military that he already had experience working with the cards.

“Hey girl, it’s good to see ya. You would not believe the day I’ve had, and boy are you lucky I didn’t ask for your help earlier,” he told Petunia. Looking down at him, she cocked her head to one side, raising one floopy ear in attention. He reached out and patted her flank, admiring the sleek, cream-colored fur. Despite her short, stubby legs, she towered above him--a much longer body than her legs suggested, its soft and pudgy appearance belying enormous strength, visible only in the soft ripple of muscles under the fur as she stood before him on her hind legs. “Listen. I’ve got to move that big piece of metal,” he told her, pointing at the panel. “Do you think you could help me with that?”

Petunia warbled her agreement, and tottered over to the boulder. With seemingly no effort, she bent over, slid her paws under the paneling, and hurled it into the woods. _“Tootooteru?”_ she chirped back at Janmu, expectantly.

“Okay. That was definitely not the approach I expected, but you know, it got the job done,” Janmu said, nodding his head in approval. “Thank you, Petunia, you’ve been an absolute delight, and as always I love and cherish you.”

 _"Tooruturu,”_ she responded cheerfully, and shuffled aside as Janmu returned to the boulder.

Next to the boulder, in the tattered white jacket of the Atlesian Air Fleet, was the pilot. Except, as Janmu stared, slack-jawed, it wasn’t the pilot. The pilot had had more of his body. The pilot had been considerably more alive. Janmu felt a wave of horror rise up in his belly and doubled over, retching.

This was not what Janmu had expected. Janmu had expected a relatively uneventful posting, reasonable salary and benefits, and a chance to meet people, many of whom he assumed were likely to be in their prime, in considerably better shape than he was, and if he was being honest probably rather attractive as well. At least he hoped. Just like he hoped that his charming demeanor and disarming jokes could compensate for being small and weak and generally more what you would describe as “a man, but if that man were, you know, the size of a large child, and similarly had the physical strength of a child.” He had definitely not signed up for wanton death and dismemberment! Did his insurance even cover that? He certainly hadn’t paid attention to that part of the onboarding seminar.

So here he was, in the forest, gods knew how far from Atlas, everyone he’d gone to work with today was dead, he was almost certainly going to be killed by Grimm, and for some goddamn, unbelievable reason, his shoelace was missing.

“Okay, Petunia,” he sighed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, “I don’t think we should stick around here. I know you like being carried around, but I think you’d better stay out with me for a bit. There is a high probability that I will once again require assistance, and we both know you’re the capable one.” Petunia shuffled closer to him and cocked her head at him, in the same inquisitive manner that marked all of her interactions. “No, Petunia, I don’t know where home is, it’s silly of you to assume that I would, but I’m guessing it’s roughly the direction we came from,” Janmu continued, pointing at the broken trees at the northwest edge of the clearing.

Janmu very nearly started walking towards the edge of the clearing before he remembered that his left shoe would not be very cooperative. “Hmm, this shoe is quite the pickle…” he thought, stroking his chin and tapping his left foot. A bit of red caught his eye--a wire, poking out from under a truss. That would do. He bent down, being careful not to over-extend his shoulder, slipped a small knife from his pocket, and cut a short length of the wire. It wasn’t quite a shoelace, but it was ductile enough that he could loop it through the eye-holes on his shoe and cinch the top together. This would do.

Newly-confident that he could walk without killing himself, and followed by Petunia’s large, furry form, Private Janmu Laney walked around the wreckage, and into the forest in the direction he fervently wished was home.

From the crown of a spruce on the opposite side of the clearing, a small, black raven took flight. After circling a few times to gain height, it also set off to the northwest, holding in its claws a nearly-white Atlesian shoelace.

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.   
---|---


	3. Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven wrestles with her past, and Janmu finds out what happened to his shoelace. Raven and Janmu have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is available at the end of the chapter with references for the temtem appearing in this chapter.
> 
> A podfic version of this chapter is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/track/chapter-2-feather>

_The tip of the black raven’s feather parted slightly. Raven slowly spun the feather in her fingers as she gently drew it on its meandering path, lingering on each curve. Delicate goosebumps arose beneath the feather’s touch, and the corners of her lips turned up slightly as she saw the sweat bead up on the other woman’s olive skin, glistening softly in the flicker of the candle. Moments like these were nice. Her slight smile relaxed, however, and she frowned._

_“What’s wrong?” Vernal asked._

_Raven sighed. Moments like these were nice, but could not last in this world. Not while the tribe was in danger. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have, but it would have to be now._

_“Vernal,” Raven began. Vernal turned her blue eyes up to Raven’s, and Raven wished she could lose herself in their steely clarity. A single matted lock of Vernal’s short-cropped brown hair stuck to her brow; Raven gently moved it aside. “The Spring Maiden isn’t progressing in her training. Every day she’s with us and unable to defend herself, the tribe’s danger grows.”_

_“I’ll push her harder. She’ll learn. She’ll have to,” Vernal replied. "I can--"_

_“Vernal.” Raven silenced her with a kiss, and softly nuzzled her nose. “The problem is not with you. You have done everything I have asked, you have trained half our fighters, and your training regimen is the best anyone in the tribe could ask for.” She gave Vernal another kiss. She shifted slightly, allowing more of Vernal’s weight to rest in the crook of her arm, and leaned in closer, allowing her leg to rest between Vernal’s. Raven set down the feather, and placed her hand firmly on Vernal’s side, locking eyes with her._

_“No, the problem is with the Spring Maiden. She’s not ready. She won’t be ready. Maybe not ever. She’s the wrong woman; the power is too much. Every day she holds it, she puts herself in more danger, she puts us in more danger, and Salem gets closer,” Raven continued. “The power of the Spring Maiden will have to be transferred to someone else.”_

_Vernal’s eyes widened. “You mean… I see. Raven, you know I would do anything for the tribe. For you. I’ll do it. I can take it. I would be honored.”_

_Raven gave a small chuckle. “No, Vernal. You are incredible and strong, and I love you for it. But this would be too much, even for you. It is no honor. It is a burden, the heaviest burden. No. It has to be me.” Vernal’s eyes widened further, as Raven looked down, her fingers playing across Vernal's midriff, and continued, “I will take the power of the Spring Maiden. Only I know enough about Salem, only I know enough about that idiot Ozpin and his pets, only I am strong enough, only I can do this. Only I can keep us safe. But I can’t do it alone. I need you.”_

_“What can I do?”_

_“I need someone I can trust. Someone I can trust completely. And more importantly, someone who will trust me. Who believes that what I do, I do for the tribe.”_

_“Raven, you know I do. We all do. I would fight anyone, any day on your command,” Vernal said, her mouth set in grim determination. "I trust you with my life."_

_“I know,” Raven replied. “And that’s exactly it. No one but you can know that I am the Spring Maiden. They have to believe that **you** are the Spring Maiden. If they know I am the Spring Maiden, they will do everything they can to kill me. And for the safety of the tribe, when it comes to that fight, I’ll need every advantage.”_

_“But if they think **I’m** the Spring Maiden…”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Oh.”_

_"I hope we don't see that fight in our lifetimes," Raven said. "But I know we probably will. So we'll train. We'll prepare for it, so we're ready when it does, so I have every chance of survival. So you have a chance."_

_Vernal thought for a moment. “I’ll do it. I said I trust you with my life, and I meant it. I’ll do it. I’ll be your spring maiden, and I’ll do everything I can to protect you,” Vernal said decisively, and lifted herself up to kiss Raven._

_~_

The man was resting against a boulder, his head tilted back, mouth gaping open as he slept. He wore a crumpled Atlesian uniform which bore a Private’s insignia. Next to him, curled up on the ground, napped a large tateru. Raven had never understood the appeal of the animals; they were really just enormous rodents. Strong, yes. And able to understand instructions. But beyond that, they were still rodents, and not the smartest rodents she’d ever encountered, at that. This tateru, for example, was supposed to be keeping watch. The concept was likely too complex for the large, furry animal.

Raven had followed the man for two days. She wasn’t entirely sure why. He had headed toward Atlas, which happened to coincide with her own destination. And of course, there was the matter of the crash. She had been flying in her corvid form when she saw the Nevermore attack--one of an increasing number she’d noticed on her journey North. The Nevermore had made quick work of the airship, and had only had the misfortune of getting itself stuck when the ship hit the trees. And then when she’d gone to the wreckage to scavenge for supplies, there was the man--lying on the ground some thirty metres from the debris, apparently uninjured.

He should not have been alive--she had seen him thrown from the craft. Normal people didn’t survive hitting the ground at those speeds and from those heights. No, this man had something working in his favor. Something powerful. He was not a huntsman, though--she had checked him for weapons, and Atlas usually didn’t recruit huntsmen into the rank of Private, anyway. Everyone had a semblance, but usually only trained fighters unlocked theirs. Had he learned to use his in some other way? Or did he get lucky?

Either way, she had resolved to observe him a while, and see what kind of man he was--how strong, how resourceful, how smart he was. Perhaps he could be useful, especially if he was familiar with Atlas and could gain entry to military facilities. She of course could have handled anything she’d encounter in Atlas, but it was better not to take risks. Not now. She needed to stay strong, and more importantly to stay smart. For the tribe. She had propped him against a case of Dust, removed one of his shoelaces (to see what he would do about that, and because it entertained her), and then had rummaged through the wreckage for anything useful before hiding herself in the trees.

He was capable enough; he and the tateru had handled all the Grimm that had come their way. Raven, of course, had made sure nothing too dangerous got close--he was her quarry, not theirs. But he wasn’t very smart--he had somehow failed to notice the raven frequently overhead, flying in the same general direction, despite the fact that there were no ravens in this region. Or perhaps he was too smart--and had cleverly hid his awareness. Raven doubted it. He clearly had a strong relationship with the large animal beside him; it had on several occasions willingly returned to the tiny card-shaped crystal prison he kept in his pocket. A strange device; she'd not seen one before. The first time the animal had been sucked into the card with a brief flash of light, she'd nearly fallen out of her perch. But the tateru didn't seem to mind, and in fact seemed quite cheerful when it had next emerged. In any case, it happily obeyed its instructions as best it could.

Oh well. Enough lurking and watching. Time to find out if he could be an asset--or just another idiot. And it would mean the opportunity to get comfortable after two days of staying hidden--and maybe an opportunity to make a cup of tea. She leapt deftly from the branch she was sitting on, and began collecting fallen branches. A short while later she had enough to get a small fire going, a few meters from the man’s feet. She sat at the base of a tree and stretched her feet out to the fire, her black boots growing warm in the light of the flames. She pulled the white cotton shoelace out from her pouch, along with a black feather. As she watched and waited, she played with them idly, her left hand loosely winding the shoelace around the feather, as her left hand gently ran its fingers along the vane.

Soon enough, the wafting scent of the fire roused the sleeping tateru. It sat up, snuffled at the smoke, seemed to see Raven, then turned to the man and snuffled in his ear with a soft hoot. He immediately startled awake, saw Raven and the fire, and scrambled to his feet, nearly falling backwards over the boulder.

"Yahhhh!" He screamed. The tateru, surprised, jumped and stood bolt upright, its ears on end. It looked quizzically at Raven, then at the man. "Who are you?” The man demanded. “How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," she answered, and, slipping the shoelace and feather into her pouch, picked herself up off the ground. "You know," she continued, as she started walking around the fire, "you really should do a better job of paying attention to your surroundings. Looking behind you, for starters." He spun around, peering into the woods behind him. "No, not now," she clarified, "in general."

"Have you been following me?"

"Let's just say, I was going the same direction, you happened to be there, and I happened to have an interest." That was not after all completely untrue, she thought.

"Ahh, so you could rob me, eh? I know how this goes," he said. "They warned me about this sort of thing. See? Street smarts!" He tapped his head, as if to suggest substantial wisdom on the topic. Oh well, Raven thought, an idiot.

"Is that so? Well, since you clearly know I'm going to rob you, what are you going to do about it?" She asked, as she came around to his side of the fire, standing now only a few metres away.

"Petunia!" The large beast’s ears perked up. _"Charge!"_

The animal gave a small jump, rapidly stamped its feet, lowered its head, and charged forward. Raven’s blade sang through the air, carving a neat arc, and the tateru lunged full-bore through the portal that had just opened directly in front of its nose. With another swish, Raven closed the portal and sheathed the blade. _Petunia_. Raven sighed inwardly.

“Now. That wasn’t very kind, was it? I did make you a fire. The least you could do is sit and enjoy it with me. Perhaps make some tea.”

The man’s jaw dropped, staring at the space between them where the tateru had vanished. “What… wha… Petunia! Now hold on just a minute, you bring her back!”

“Oh come now. Your pet is fine," Raven snorted derisively. "But you might not be if you don't shut up, sit down, and start talking. So which will it be? A friendly fireside chat? Or," she pulled a blade a few inches out of its sheath, "do we see what you can do without that rodent?"

The man looked at the exposed blade, the evening light gleaming on its red Dust edge, and gulped. "Uhm, ah, yes, uh, yes ma'am." He quickly backed away to the other side of the fire and sat, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"Much better," Raven said, and sat down herself, again extending her legs toward the fire. "Now then. Your canteen."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You really are dense. Your water. The metal container? You filled it in a stream this morning. I made you a fire, and now I want tea, and tea is best-served hot. Now. Start heating water."

The man laughed. "I'm sorry. Let me get this straight. You followed me in the forest for days, ambushed me, sent my beloved Petunia to who-knows-where, threatened me, and now you want to have _tea?_ I'm sorry, am I missing something?"

 _Shing--_ the blade came out of its sheath.

"Right. Got it." He pulled out his canteen, and wedged it into the coals at the edge of the fire. "The least you could do is tell me what you want," he muttered.

"Wrong," she said, sheathing the sword. "The least I could do is leave you to die. Which, judging by the number of Grimm in this region, would happen quickly."

"Hey, I don't mean to brag or anything," he said, a slight smirk forming, "but Petunia and I did okay."

"Hmm. Yes, interesting. In any case, I did more than the least, I made you a fire, and I'm not killing you now. I think I'm being rather generous, actually," she said, taking her turn to smirk. "But I'll answer your questions. Some of them. Mine first. Who are you, and how did a lowly Atlesian Private survive that crash, let alone a Nevermore attack?"

"Fair enough," he said. "My name is Private Janmu Laney. I joined up a few weeks ago. And lady, believe me, I have _no idea_ how I survived that. I got lucky with the Nevermore. We hit the trees, I went flying, and next thing I know I'm sitting against a crate. And my shoelace is missing. Hey,” he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “you wouldn't happen to have had anything to do with that, would you?"

By way of answer, she pulled the shoelace from her pouch and tossed it across the fire to him. Janmu caught it. He stared at the cotton shoelace in his hand, and shook his head in disbelief.

He looked up at Raven. "Okay what? Can I ask? What the hell?"

"Call it… an investment." She wasn't ready to show her cards just yet. Janmu seemed resourceful, but an idiot. Resourceful idiots could be useful, but she didn't know enough yet. She pulled the red bandana out of her hair, letting the enormous mass of black waves flood onto her shoulders, and wrapped the cloth around her hand. She got up and walked around the fire to Janmu and pulled the canteen out of the fire. Steam hissed out of the canteen as she removed the cap and set it on the ground. "My name is Raven,” she said, as she pulled a pinch of dried bark and twigs from her pouch and added them to the cap. “I’m the leader of the Branwen Tribe.” _Or was,_ she thought. She poured the hot water into the cap, and continued, “I wasn’t lying when I said I happened to be heading in the same direction as you. What I want is to protect my tribe. I can’t do that without help. That’s why I’m going to Atlas. And that’s why when I saw you survive the attack and the crash, I decided to find out who you were.”

Janmu knitted his brows. “Wait, hold on--you saw the attack and the crash. That all happened way above the trees. How could you have possibly seen all that?”

“Let’s just say, I keep my eyes open.” She stood up with her cup of tea, and turning to Janmu to hand him the hot water, looked him straight in the eyes. They widened as she held his gaze. She had guessed correctly--he had failed to notice until now that her eyes matched the red of her blade. He took the hot water and immediately dropped it, shaking his burnt hand. Raven returned to her seat on the opposite side of the fire and sipped her tea, watching Janmu across the flames. She found herself unable to make up her mind about him. He was an oblivious idiot--but then there was the crash. He didn’t know, after all. That made him dangerous--and potentially useful. Perhaps he could be taught. And there was the thing with the tateru. He had placed all of his trust in the animal--not a weapon on him, and he had set off into the woods like it was a stroll in a park.

“I’ll let you live,” she said. “But I want you to come with me. Don’t ask why,” Raven held up a hand to silence the objection Janmu had just started to raise, “I don’t know why. But I think you should.”

“Well now hold on, that’s very gracious of you to not kill me,” Janmu replied, rubbing his hand, “I do appreciate that. Immensely, in fact. But you’ve threatened me 3 times in the last ten minutes, and I honestly still have no idea who you are. I still don’t know where Petunia is! Why should I trust you? That seems like a very bad idea!”

Raven sighed, looking down into her tea, slowly stirring it with the quill of a black feather. “You can’t. Shouldn’t,” she said, looking away. “But there’s more at stake than you know. I can’t promise or guarantee anything. But we both want the same thing. To be strong. To survive. And I always,” she said, locking eyes with him, “survive.”

~

_The ice hit her feet just as she began to leap forward, her hand already at the hilt of her blade. In an instant, she knew she had miscalculated. Cinder was faster. As the ice raced up her body, sealing her in place, she saw an impossible, inhuman black claw fly out from Cinder, pinning Vernal against the Vault. In the last moment before the ice covered her head, she heard Vernal cry out in pain. Her heart sank--an icy stab flooding her from within._

_I'm sorry, Vernal,_ _she thought. I'm so sorry. I won't waste this._

~

_Raven watched Cinder fall away into the depths, her body encased in ice, her face frozen in surprise. She let out a long sigh, extinguished the Maiden-flames, turned back to the Vault platform, and walked over to Vernal._

_Vernal's body lay motionless where it had fallen. The life had gone from her eyes--those large, clear, steel-blue eyes that had held such confidence and such vigor. Raven knelt next to Vernal, and sighed._

_"Thank you, Vernal," she said, as she drew the woman's eyes closed. I'm so sorry,_ _she again thought to herself._

_She drew herself up, and approached the door. This was it--the real purpose of the power she held. Everything it allowed her to do in a fight--a mere sideshow, compared to opening the Vault. She placed her hand on the door. Bluish-white light raced across the golden surface, spreading outward from her hand. At last, the entire door of the Vault was inlaid with glowing, branching swirls. And then--nothing._

_Raven sighed. All that. Vernal. All for nothing. She had come here, seeking the relic, hoping desperately that it would give her and her tribe an edge, allow them to survive. And now the Vault wouldn't even open. She had failed. She rested her forehead against the Vault door, defeated._

_< Chunk>._

_< Ka-chunk>. _

_Slowly, gears and mechanisms inside the Vault door clicked into action, straining against decades of disuse. Raven startled, and stepped back from the door, as the surface of the door separated into enormous, metallic leaves, which one by one slid away into the frame of the door._

_The Vault was open. Through the towering doorway, she could see sunlight. And sand--bright, shimmering, golden sand. Three large, circular stone daises lay in a row extending from the door, exposed above the sand. A strange, brown dust appeared to rise endlessly from each dais, disappearing into the endless sky. On the third dais, on a small pedestal, rested an iridescent round cerulean vase, outlined in a gold trim, an ornate golden handle curving out from either side of the neck. As she peered out across the sand, she saw strange blue and purple lights playing across the surface of the vase._

_The relic._

_She stepped forward to the precipice of the Vault. As she lifted her foot to step across, she heard two soft thuds behind her, then footsteps. She spun, ready for action._

_Yang._

_Yang, her daughter, luxuriously flowing golden hair cascading down her back, stood several meters away, her prosthetic arm missing. Beside her stood a small creature, not unlike a lion cub. Raven recognized it as a raiber--a fierce, fiery animal, common in Menagerie, but rarely seen in Vale. The raiber gently shook its small, juvenile red mane, then sat next to Yang, as Yang watched her mother from across the platform. Expecting an explanation, Raven assumed. An explanation that wasn't deserved._

_"I warned you, Yang," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I gave you every opportunity to walk away from Qrow and Oz. So you can believe me when I say," she spat, "this wasn't personal."_

_Yang continued to glare. "You opened the Vault," she said, unimpressed._

_"Thanks to the chaos you and your friends caused, upstairs," Raven replied, gesturing to the debris littering the platform, evidence of the fight that had taken place here while the others had fought upstairs. She turned, and began walking away. "I knew you could handle it," she called over her shoulder, dismissively. "You're my daughter after all."_

_"Qrow and Oz told me how the Maiden powers are transferred," Yang said. "The girl you found. She would've had to have trusted you if you were in her final thoughts. Cared about you--a lot."_

_Raven looked over at Vernal's body. So she knew, then. Or thought she did, at least. There was no knowing what tidy story Oz had fed her, like he had fed Qrow, and once upon a time, herself. Quietly, she said, "I'm sure they told you plenty. And you just sat and obeyed."_

_"No," Yang replied, her voice flat and level. "I'm starting to ask questions, like you said. So tell me," she said, her jaw clenched, a touch of anger in her voice, "what happened to the last Spring Maiden? Did she die in battle? Was it sickness?"_

_So she did know, after all. Clearly her daughter was smarter than Qrow, and not as naive as Taiyang. But still, what did she know? She was a child. She knew nothing of the hard choices a leader made, the sacrifices you made for your family. Like Vernal's sacrifice. Vernal had understood. "What does it matter to you?" Raven growled, looking back at Yang._

_Yang stared at her mother’s grim expression, her eyes slowly going wide with horror. "I can already see the answer! It's all over your face!" Yang exclaimed. "How could you?"_

_"She was scared when we found her," Raven snapped. She turned to face her daughter, and began pacing around her, keeping her distance. "Weak! No matter how much training I put her through, she never learned. She wasn't cut out for this world! And with those powers," she continued, "she would have been hunted her entire life! What I did--"_

_"Wasn't personal," Yang finished, her voice low._

_"It was mercy!" Raven raged._

_"Which is it, mom?" Yang yelled, now pacing as well, facing off against her mother. The raiber slunk behind her, emitting a low growl. She gestured at Raven. "Are you merciful, or are you a survivor? Did you let me walk into that trap because you knew I could handle it," she asked, then dropped her voice, "or because it meant you could get what you wanted?"_

_How dare she. So young. So naive. She didn't know. "It's not that simple," Raven snarled. "You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through, the choices I've had to make!" The rage built inside her, the Maiden power flickering at her fingertips. She didn't know, she couldn't know. She had been corrupted by Ozpin and Qrow. And now she stood in the way of the relic, of the tribe._

_"You're, right," Yang said, her voice trembling. "I don't know you. I only know the Raven Dad told me about. She was troubled, and complicated. But she fought for what she believed in, whether it was her team, or her tribe! Did you kill her too?" She demanded, angrily._

_Yang's words stung. Raven looked away. Yang wasn't wrong. But she was twisting the truth, turning Raven into the villain. But she wasn't. What she did, she for the tribe! What Yang said was unfair, and more, it was insolent! She had lost everything--for her tribe. The pain and anger roiled within her gut, white-hot, and the maiden-flames bloomed from her eyes as she turned back to Yang._

_"I've stared death in the face, over, and over, and over again!" Raven cried, "and every time I've spat in that face and survived. Because I'm strong enough to do what others won't!"_

_"Oh, shut up!" Yang scoffed. "You don't know the first thing about strength! You turn your back on people, you run away when things get too hard, you put others in harm’s way instead of yourself!” She raised a hand and pointed at Raven trembling with anger--no, Raven realized--fear. “You might be powerful,” Yang growled, “but that doesn’t make you strong.”_

_That was too much. “Who do you think you are?” Raven roared. “Lecturing me? Standing there! Shaking, like a scared little girl?”_

_“Yeah, I’m scared,” yelled Yang. “But I’m still standing here!” Each word, slamming into place as Yang stepped toward Raven. “I’m not like you! I won’t run! Which is why you’re going to give me the relic.”_

_“And why would I--”_

_“Because you’re afraid of Salem,” Yang blurted, exploding with rage. “And if you thought having Maiden powers put a target on your back, imagine what she’ll do when she finds out you have a Relic! She’ll come after you with everything she has!”_

_Fine, Raven thought, let her. I’ll show Salem, and Yang, strength._

_“Or she can come after me.” Yang’s voice was steady. Raven felt a pit in her stomach. “And I’ll be standing there. Waiting for her.”_

_Raven felt her world fall away from her. Yang was indeed her daughter, after all. Strong. Determined. And willing to give everything. Like Raven had. Like Vernal had._

_“You don’t want to do this, Yang,” she said, quietly._

_“Nope,” Yang said. “But I’m gonna do it anyway.” Yang walked past Raven toward the open Vault door, brusquely pushing past Raven’s shoulder as she went. Tears welled in Raven’s eyes. Yang was right. Raven had miscalculated--had been too blinded by the Maiden-powers and the power of the relic. She had failed. She had failed the tribe, she had failed Vernal, and she had failed Yang._

_“I… I’m sorry,” Raven said, her voice breaking. A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the stone floor of the platform._

_“Yeah. Me too,” Yang replied._

_As the tears began to flow faster, Raven pulled out her sword and swung it through the air behind Yang, opening a portal. Raven hurried through the portal, closing it behind her._

_As Yang and the raiber crossed the threshold into the Vault, in the air behind her, a single black feather drifted down to the platform floor._

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.   
---|---  
| 

### Raiber

God I want a raiber. Fierce little guys, almost waist-high. Fiercely loyal, and tons of attitude. They have a tendency to set stuff on fire, which makes them less good in cities. Native to Vacuo, also often found in Menagerie. 


	4. Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover, Blake, Yang, and Ren help Nora catch a powerful temtem. Later, Clover and Qrow have a serious talk about whether that was a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is available at the end of the chapter as a visual reference.
> 
> A podfic version of this chapter is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/track/chapter-3-card>.

The nessla lunged out of the water, sheets of water cascading off its serpentine form. Clover rapidly sucked in air and shook his dripping bangs out of his eyes, tightening his grip on Kingfisher and clenching his thighs around its body. His muscles strained as he tried to guide the creature; he had Kingfisher's line and hook wrapped tightly around the serpent's neck, just behind its head. A lucky cast. The nessla roared, the golden fins lining the top and bottom of its snout shaking, sending tiny water droplets flying into the chilly air.

"Help me get it to shore!" Clover called to the others waiting on the shore. Ren began sprinting along the rocks lining the edge of the inlet, while Yang took off along the opposite edge. _Come on,_ thought Clover, _go to shore. Just a little closer._

Instead, however, he felt the nessla's muscles tense, and saw golden ripples begin to form in its Aura. _Oh no._ Clover released the tension on Kingfisher's line, dug his heels into the nessla's back, and launched himself into the air. _Come on, come on, come on,_ he thought, as he arced neatly through the air, arms extended, slowly flipping around so he could see the nessla below him. As he reached the apex of his jump, he let go of Kingfisher, and prayed he had guessed the timing correctly.

He had. The serpent let loose an enormous blast of electricity, kicking up a wall of ocean spray all around it. Several bolts of electricity slammed into the shore, one narrowly missing Ren as he leapt from stone to stone. Clover grabbed Kingfisher out of the air and snapped the reel closed, pulling the line taut once more as he fell back toward the water.

His jump had bought him some forward distance; he was now only about ten metres from the shore--the water would only be waist-deep here. As he continued his flip, he tucked his rod close to his chest and pulled, using the tension in the line to spin himself back towards the sea serpent. He landed neatly in the water on his feet, facing down the nessla.

"Now!" He shouted. Twin flashes of light from Yang and Ren told him they had thrown out their Temcards. Moments later, a small creature with a body like an acorn and several thin, moth-like wings soared out over the water away from Ren, and a similarly small yellow-and-black creature with a beak and buzzing insectoid wings shot out away from Yang. _Bee and Youmei. Nice,_ thought Clover. The bee-like ganki and the fluttering loali met in the air behind the nessla and began beating their wings furiously, driving gale-force winds at the serpent. Ren and Blake opened fire, and the air erupted with the chatter of their guns. Small flashes of light bloomed across the nessla's body as its Aura took the bullets' impact, while the water around it erupted with spray from missed shots. Clover started slowly wading backwards toward the shore, his sleeveless biceps bulging as he slowly pulled the struggling serpent through the water. He shifted his grip on Kingfisher, briefly freeing his right hand. He quickly pulled his own Temcard from its pocket beneath the left breast of his uniform, and flicked it into the air before returning his attention to Kingfisher.

The card flashed in the air above him, and was replaced by a large tuwai, its wide, iridescent green wings slowly beating the air. It turned its large, orange beak at him and cawed expectantly.

"Temerity!" Clover called to the bird. "Buy me some time with that nessla!" Temerity flapped furiously to gain altitude and gave a piercing caw. With a forceful beat of her wings, her Aura flashed, and several translucent viridian feathers materialized in the air around her, and shot at the nessla. The nessla shrieked, as several feathers pierced through its Aura and left deep scratches on the blue scales.

"Nora! Go! Blake," he called, "I could use some help!" On the shore behind him, Blake and her raiber, Growler, splashed into the water. Nora swung her enormous hammer into the sand, using the rebound to launch herself into the air over the bay, using the blast from one of the hammer's grenades to gain height.

"Bee!" Nora called, as she soared over the water, _"charge me up!"_ The ganki stopped churning the air and chittered at Nora. It began buzzing violently, and a blinding bolt of crackling light lanced through the air, slamming into Nora's chest.

"Aaahahaha!" She cackled as she fell toward the nessla, violet electricity coursing through her muscles.

"Nora, no!" Clover shouted, as she swung her hammer into the nessla. The water exploded as the hammer let loose an enormous blast of energy, and the force of the hit launched the nessla out of the water towards Clover. He mashed the button on Kingfisher's reel to release and retract the hook, and lunged away from the incoming thrashing serpent. Blake and Growler caught up to him and each grabbed an arm with which to pull him out of the water. The nessla hit the water where he had been moments ago with an enormous splash.

"Nora, it's like you!" Clover shouted. "Electricity makes it stronger!"

"You couldn't think to tell me that?!" She replied, treading the water where she had landed.

"I forgot you don't have these in Vale!" he replied.

The nessla lifted itself out of the water, levitating as golden static snapped and crackled along the golden fins that ran the length of its body. It turned to face its newest threat--Nora. Its Aura began to pulse, golden waves of light running along its body up towards its head, each wave brighter than the last.

 _Oh no,_ thought Clover. _This is it. This is where my luck runs out._ The nessla opened its toothy jaw and let out an ear-piercing roar. An enormous bolt of lightning split the sky, pummeling the water where Nora had been for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the lightning storm subsided, leaving behind an enormous cloud of steam that gently mushroomed into the sky.

Clover's heart sank. Nora was strong, and she had her semblance, but… surely no one could survive a direct hit from a nessla's most powerful attack.

His heart leapt back and up into his throat, however, as a blinding violet light rose through the steam. Nora emerged from the cloud, her hair and eyes wild, balls of violet electricity crackling from her hands as she levitated above the water.

"Oh, I _love_ her," she growled. _"She's MINE!"_ She leaned forward and shot across the face of the water toward the nessla. The nessla saw the charge, lowered its head, and shot out to meet Nora.

 _“Go go go go! Out of the water!”_ Clover said frantically to Blake and Growler. The water churned madly as they scrambled for the shore. They were nearly out when they were lifted bodily out of the water and thrown onto the sand, as an enormous shock wave slammed into their backs. Clover rolled over onto his back and looked out to where Nora and the nessla had met. His view was blocked by a two-metre wall of water rushing toward the shore. _“BLAKE!”_ He shouted, grabbing her by the shoulder and scrambling backwards up the sand. She turned, saw the wave, and leapt cat-like up the beach, sand flying in her wake. Clover dove for safety, landing and rolling on the sand just as the wave crashed, sending water rushing over his feet.

Looking back out over the water, he could now see Nora and the nessla. The two were floating together above the water, Nora’s hands clasped to either side of its head, her eyes mere inches from the serpent’s eyes. Her pink hair stood ramrod straight while her jacket billowed, as a maelstrom of violet and golden energy swirled around them. Even from this distance, Clover could see that the pupils had vanished entirely from her eyes, which were instead glowing with coral light.

 _“Together…”_ Nora intoned, as she removed a hand and pulled a Temcard from her dress pocket, _“you and I… will RULE THE WORLD!!”_ She pressed the tab on the side of the card, and let go as it began to hover next to the nessla. As the card began to glow, she gently touched her forehead to the serpent’s snout, her eyes closed. _“I will call you… Gullhilde,”_ she said. The nessla appeared to relax, and its eyes slid closed. The floating Temcard let out a flash of light, and the nessla was gone. Nora’s hand shot out and closed around the card, as the ball of light in which the two had been encased dissipated.

 _“NORA!”_ Ren shouted, as she went limp and fell to the water below. He dove off the rocks and began swimming furiously out to her. Clover leapt to his feet and ran into the surf, Blake catching up beside him while Yang sprinted back along the shore. Ren reached Nora and threw himself under her shoulder, then began swimming towards the others.

“Bee, Youmei, Temerity, help them!” Clover cried. The three flying temtem dove down to Ren and Nora, latching on to their arms. Clover and Blake caught up, and with the help of the temtem, were able to quickly pull Nora and Ren to the shore.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Ren muttered, leaning over Nora’s unconscious form. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes.

“That was awesome,” she said, weakly.

“Nora,” he sighed, “please, never do that again.”

“I won’t have to,” she said, grinning as she held up the Temcard, which was gently shimmering with blue and gold light.

Elm was standing when Clover opened the door to the break room, one hand flat on the table displaying five face-up playing cards, the other raised in a triumphant fist.

“Read them and WEEP, old man!” she crowed. Qrow Branwen was seated opposite her, staring at her cards in disbelief. “BEHOLD, I have collected FOUR matching cards!”

“I-I can’t believe it,” he stammered, his eyes wide. “I had a read on you that entire game… how did you--that’s just my luck, isn’t it...” He tossed his cards onto the table and leaned back into his chair, scowling.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Huntsman,” Clover said, leaning against the doorframe. “Elm may not have a great poker face, but she has years of experience. She’s one of the sharpest players in Atlas. I’ve played with her many times, and even with my luck she usually wins. If you want to play a fair game, give me a try,” he said with a wink.

“Maybe I will,” Qrow replied with a slight smirk. “Hey wait a minute,” he said, his brow furrowing as Yang, Blake, Ren, and Nora filed into the room. “Why are you all soaked?”

“I caught a NESSLA!” Nora exclaimed, her eyes still wild with the thrill of her victory. “It was _awesome_! You shoulda seen it, Qrow, Clover was all _whoosh_ , and Blake and Ren were like _ratatatatat._ ” She darted across the break room, mimicking their guns with her hands. “And then the NESSLA, she’s like me and I _flew_ and we bonded and her name is Gullhilde and _it was INCREDIBLE!”_

“It was pretty cool,” Blake confirmed. She walked over to the break room couch and collapsed over its arm, laying face-down along the entire length of the couch. “We almost died.”

“More caution would have been good,” Ren agreed, as he settled into a chair at the table.

“We had it under control,” Yang said, heading to the coffee machine at the back of the room. “You should have been there, Uncle Qrow, we’re getting better at combining our attacks with our temtem!”

“A _most_ excellent tale!” Elm declared, still standing. “Come, young huntress, you must tell me more!”

Nora gasped. “You’re right! I should tell EVERYONE!” She darted back out of the break room and vanished down the hall, and Elm marched out after her.

Qrow sat in his chair, his eyes darting from person to person as he seemed to struggle to process Nora’s revelations. “Let me get this straight,” he said, rubbing his temples. “You took them to fight a _nessla?_ Captain, can I speak to you outside?” He stood from his chair and stalked over to the door.

“You can call me Clover, but sure,” Clover replied, and followed Qrow out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Qrow leaned heavily against the wall of the hallway and cradled his head in one hand, the other crossed against his chest. Clover stationed himself against the opposite wall and waited for the huntsman to speak.

“What were you thinking?” Qrow asked, not looking up at Clover.

“I was thinking that Nora’s fighting style would benefit from a temtem fighting alongside her, and fishermen in one of the coastal towns had been complaining of a nessla harassing their boats. It seemed like a natural fit.”

“You took them to fight a nessla!” Qrow said, putting down his hand and looking up at Clover. “I don’t know if you noticed, but they’re kids, and nesslas are dangerous! Blake said you almost died!”

“They’re more than capable. Yes, nesslas can be quite dangerous. But they were up to the task.”

Qrow pushed himself away from the wall and stood closer to Clover. Clover noticed, not for the first time, the way in which Qrow’s red cape and slate-gray waistcoat set off the red in his eyes and the streaks of gray in his hair. “Look… I know you’re used to working with your operatives,” Qrow said, “but they’ve got years of training--these kids are good, but they’re still kids! They haven’t even finished huntsman training! I know I can’t keep them out of danger; we have to face Salem and we need the kids in the fight. I tried to protect them from that, but I failed. They’re in this whether I like it or not. But it’s still my job to protect them as best I can--I’m Yang and Ruby’s uncle, and I’m responsible for their safety and the safety of their friends. While they’re here and working with you, that’s your job too! And I would appreciate it,” he snarled, “if you would take that part of your job seriously!”

“I take my job very seriously, Qrow,” Clover replied. He narrowed his eyes. “And if you took your job seriously, you would have come with us when I issued the invitation to go do some outdoor training, instead of moping around the break room, just waiting for the next mission. We all have work to do, you know. Fighting Salem isn’t just a matter of fighting Grimm.”

“Listen here,” Qrow hissed, pointing his finger at Clover’s face, “don’t you give me your little tin soldier spiel. I know what I’m doing, I’ve been on the front lines of the fight against Salem since I was their age,” he gestured back at the break room, “and I know that with the entire world on the line, we can’t risk their safety like that!” His voice had risen to a shout. “They’re just kids!”

“They’re not just kids,” Clover replied, stepping toward Qrow, their faces now inches apart. “They’ve seen fighting and hardship the likes of which some of the Ace-Ops have never seen. We’ve been lucky in that regard. Your nieces and their team are young, sure, and they have a lot to learn. We’ll do our best to train them while they’re here. But they’re also licensed huntsmen and huntresses. General Ironwood didn’t give them their licenses to make them feel special; he did it because they’re ready--they’re up to the task, and they’re as good as anyone I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Each of them went up against that nessla of their own accord, because they thought the training was worth it, and because they agreed that capturing a nessla would be an asset to the team. You saw how happy Nora was!”

“You haven’t seen Nora really fight; the bigger the fight, the happier she gets,” Qrow muttered, looking away.

“Elm’s the same way, “ Clover said. “And I trust Elm with my life. I trust all my operatives with my life, and they trust me with theirs, and they trust each other. That’s because we’re a team. That doesn’t mean we never put each other in danger, but it means we have each other’s backs when we do, and we succeed because we work together. Ruby, Blake, Nora, the rest of the gang... they’re part of the team too now. We all have to work together, and we all have to trust each other.”

“How can I trust you when you--”

“I wasn’t talking about me, Qrow,” Clover interrupted. “I was talking about the kids. You need to trust them to be adults, to be the huntsmen and huntresses they are. Let them take risks. When the risk doesn’t pay off, they’ll have each other’s backs, and they’ll get through it. That’s all they’ve been doing since Beacon fell. We have a lot of work to do to get Amity Tower built, and not all of it is going to be easy or fun. Let them have some fun now, even if it means taking risks. Trust them to take on those risks. And trust _me_ to have their backs in case things go wrong. And of course,” he grinned at Qrow as he flicked the clover-shaped pin on his lapel, “a bit of luck never hurts their chances.”

Qrow sighed, defeated. He slumped down to the floor and bent his head between his knees. “I guess you’re right. I just… I just want them to be okay, you know? They’ve already lost so much.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it would be a nessla,” Clover said, sitting down on the floor across from Qrow. “We really could have used some more help bringing it in. Although,” he chuckled, “I never expected Nora to fly. That nessla really is quite a match for her.”

“Heh, yeah… Nora’s something, that’s for sure. I guess I should get the play-by-play sometime.”

“You know, Qrow… I haven’t seen you fight with a temtem,” Clover said.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been a little out of the loop since those little cards were invented…” Qrow shook his head. “I dunno... I told you in the mine that I’m not used to working with other huntsmen. The truth is, I’m not used to working with anyone--learning to fight with a temtem would be a big change. I guess partly I’ve just been a little scared to try.”

“Well, maybe I can help with that,” Clover suggested. He pulled a slim crystalline card out of his vest pocket and flicked it over to Qrow. “It’s a zephyruff--and a luma, at that. I guess I got lucky. Why don’t you try working with it? I’d be happy to help you learn the basics in the training room.”

“A zephyruff… I’ve never heard of that,” Qrow said, turning the card over in his hands, his fingers exploring the unfamiliar tech.

“It’s a relatively rare bird-like temtem, only really found along the cliffs near Argus. Normally, it has mostly green and purple plumage. The rare luma color morph, however, has a red and dark blue plumage, as well as striking green eyes. Took me weeks to find one--I wanted it to match my own eyes,” Clover said with a wink. “Thing is, from what I’ve seen of your fighting style, it seems like a bird would pair well with you--fluid, up-close, and highly-mobile. Lucky for us, I happened to have an extra bird temtem that I can lend you. And,” he said, gesturing at Qrow, “I just think the red feathers would go really well with your outfit--and your eyes.”

“Well… thanks. It’s been a while, but I guess you’re right that we all need to work on ourselves. If you’ll show me how it’s done, maybe I’ll try using temtem--sometimes.” Despite Qrow’s hesitation, Clover thought he could see the hint of a blush on the other man’s cheeks.

“And hey,” Clover said, standing up and offering Qrow a hand, “I meant what I said about the card game. We have a long supply run tomorrow--why don’t we let Penny and Ruby drive, and play a few hands in the back of the truck?”

“I’d like that,” Qrow said with a smile, taking Clover’s hand and pulling himself to his feet. “I have to warn you, though, I have terrible luck with cards,” he said, as they walked down the hall toward the training room.

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Raiber

God I want a raiber. Fierce little guys, almost waist-high. Fiercely loyal, and tons of attitude. They have a tendency to set stuff on fire, which makes them less good in cities. Native to Vacuo, also often found in Menagerie.   
---|---  
| 

### Tuwai

Oh, yeah, Tuwais! These are neat birds. Big--each wing is nearly a metre long. Very intelligent, and while you might think they could repeat speech back at you, I tried telling one a joke once, and it just screamed at me. Oh well. They're found in tropical forests.   
| 

### Loali

Loalis are reasonably common forest critters. You'll see them fluttering from tree to tree; about a metre and a half wide. Generally very peaceful, but if you have something sweet they might swarm you.   
| 

### Ganki

Ugh. I wish I'd never encountered gankis. Imagine a bee, but the size of a cat, and able to _generate its own fucking electricity_. Yeah. Don't let that fucking smile fool you; these are vindictive monsters that only want to cause you pain and misery. Fuckers.   
| 

### Nessla

These show up occasionally near fishing villages. Nesslas are huge--they can get up to 10 metres long. Biggest I've seen was off the coast of Argus, maybe 6 or 7 metres long. Supposedly they get bigger the colder the water is. Real talk: if local officials tell you one of these is around, _don't go swimming_. They hunt fish by releasing huge bursts of electricity into the water and eating the stunned fish. Unless you want to get cooked from the inside, stay the fuck away from Nesslas.   
| 

### Zephyruff

Okay, I get that they're cute, and fit in the palm of your hand, but seriously? Zephyruffs are one of the most venomous flying temtems. A single sneeze and you get gassed. Fortunately they're very rare. They nest on cliffs near Argus. On an unrelated note, never visit your aunt in Argus. 


	5. Portal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven has a heart-to-heart with an old friend, and Janmu is reunited with Petunia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks once again to [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) for their edits, criticisms, and support. You really are the best.
> 
> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is available at the end of the chapter as a visual reference.
> 
> A podfic version of this chapter is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/track/chapter-4-portal>.

_Raven stepped out of the portal and fell to her knees in the soft grass, sobbing. She had failed. She had failed her tribe. She had failed Vernal. She had failed Yang. She buried her face in her hands, doubled over, her shoulders shuddering with every spasmodic breath._

_Yang was right--she had been so sure, but had blinded herself by it. Vernal had trusted her to know, to be wary, to be cunning. And she had paid the price for Raven's mistake. The pain of the loss sat in her gut, an enormous emptiness that left her feeling like nothing more than a frail shell encompassing a universe of nothingness._

_And Yang. Raven had done what she thought was best--Taiyang was a good father, despite his flaws, and had Yang grown up with Raven in the tribe, she would have been too protected. The other members of the tribe would never have allowed their leader's daughter to be in any danger. Raven had wanted Yang to learn her own lessons, to grow strong and powerful on her own, so when she eventually joined the tribe, Raven wouldn't have to worry about protecting her daughter during raids. And, she admitted to herself, she had been scared. Scared that Yang would be a liability, that if she was too close, it would make Raven vulnerable. So she had kept her distance._

_Yang was no longer a child. She had grown into the woman Raven had hoped she would be. Strong. Stubborn. Smart. Resilient. And brave. Raven realized now that where she herself had been cunning, she had also been cowardly. Yang was not like that. She got that from Taiyang, Raven supposed. Now, Yang's bravery and Raven's years of distance meant that Yang would face Salem. The emptiness inside Raven filled with remorse and dread. Her daughter had grown into an incredible woman. And Raven had squandered her chance to bring Yang into her life. While Yang was strong, Raven knew that Salem was stronger. Salem could not be defeated, only delayed. Raven feared that Yang’s decision was a death sentence, but… she knew that Yang was right. Yang was protecting her tribe, just like Raven had been protecting her own._

_Raven folded further into herself, defeated. Through her tears she almost didn’t register the sound of a door opening, then closing. She heard soft footsteps, then two large, brown boots appeared in her field of view, standing in the grass in front of her. As she raised her head slightly, the legs in the boots bent as their owner knelt, and she felt a large, strong hand land gently on her shoulder._

“ _Raven.”_

_She looked up into Taiyang’s kind eyes. “Tai…” She collapsed once more into sobs, and felt his heavy arms close around her. It had been a long time, and she had never regretted leaving, still didn’t regret it. But for now… it felt good to come back. She buried herself into his chest as she convulsed with grief._

“ _I know you keep coming back, you know,” Tai said. “You left over 17 years ago, and you came back time after time, but never stayed, never said anything, never stopped to check in. And now… now you’re here, in my arms. What happened?”_

_Raven extracted herself from his arms and sat back on her heels. She shook her head slowly. “I… Yang.”_

_Tai leapt to his feet. Raven looked up at his sudden movement. His kind face was contorted with worry. “Yang! Is she okay?” he asked._

“ _She’s fine, for now. But she has the relic,” she replied._

“ _What?”_

“ _The Haven relic, the lamp of knowledge. You remember,” she said irritably. “I know you’ve kept up with Qrow and Ozpin.”_

“ _Yeah, and you need the Spring Maiden to get that relic,” he said, crossing his arms. “Raven, I think you had better tell me what’s going on.”_

“ _And why would I do that?” She asked, wiping her nose._

“ _Because she’s our daughter, Raven. I know you haven’t exactly wanted to be involved with the family--”_

“ _The tribe is my family!” she snapped. “You knew that. You could have--”_

“ _\--but you’re here,” he pressed on, “something clearly happened between you two, and if Yang needs my help, I need to know about it. And I think I need the whole story. We never were very good at talking, you and I, but right now Yang needs us to be. So why don’t you come inside. It looks like it’ll rain soon, and I can make us some tea. And then you can tell me what happened.”_

_Raven sighed. He was right; clouds had been gathering since she had arrived. And he was also right about Yang. Tai had always been a fool, had followed Ozpin unthinkingly, and she didn’t want to tell him anything that could endanger the tribe. But then, she had also been a fool. She had underestimated her daughter, and had gotten too lost in her own hubris to realize when she herself was putting the tribe in danger. “Okay,” she said. “I guess you’re right.”_

“ _There’s a phrase I’ve never heard you say before.”_

“ _Shut up and help me up.”_

_Taiyang held out a hand, and she took it. He pulled her to her feet, and led her to the cottage’s open door._

_While Tai had put a lot of work into the house’s exterior, with new garden plots and a fresh finish on the wooden exterior, the kitchen hadn’t changed much since she had left. At some point the oven had been replaced. But everything else, the bare countertops, the bookshelf, the unassuming rectangular oak table… all as she remembered it. Taiyang set a mug of tea in front of her on the table, and sat at the side adjacent to hers, one leg resting on his knee._

“ _Okay. Why don’t you start from the beginning,” he prompted._

_Raven looked into the dark, steaming liquid in her mug, and wondered how much to tell him. If she told him that she was the Spring Maiden, he might tell Qrow. She didn’t want Qrow to know yet, she knew that much. Did Tai need to know? Why was she here, anyway? She had needed someplace to go, someplace safe. And she couldn’t go back to the tribe, not yet, not like this. She couldn’t go to Qrow, obviously, and Yang… Yang. Yang was why she was here. Yang was in danger, a danger from which Raven could not save her, even if she tried. She could tell Taiyang that much._

“ _You already know that the Haven relic can only be retrieved by the Spring Maiden,” she began. Taiyang nodded. “Some time ago,” she continued, “we--the tribe, I mean--came across the Spring Maiden. She was young, scared, and didn’t know what to do with her power. So we took her in. Trained her. Hid her as best we could. Then, a few weeks ago, Salem found us. She sent Arthur Watts--”_

“ _The disgraced Atlesian scientist?” Tai asked._

“ _\--that’s the one,” she confirmed. “Anyway, she sent him, and this woman Cinder Fall, the Fall Maiden, along with her two sidekicks.”_

_Taiyang’s eyes narrowed. “I know about Cinder. She killed one of Ruby’s friends. And orchestrated the attack on Beacon along with Adam Taurus and Roman Torchwick. Raven, if you’re involved with Cinder--”_

“ _I’m not,” she said, raising her hand placatingly. “At least, not now. Cinder’s not a problem anymore, or at least she won’t be for a while. I think she’s dead, but I can’t be sure.” When Tai’s shoulders relaxed, she continued. “Watts, Cinder, and her tag-alongs showed up in our camp. They knew we had the Spring Maiden. Lionheart had already betrayed Haven, and would let them into the vault--all they needed was the Maiden. Our options were to help them get the relic, or Salem would destroy us.”_

“ _There had to be another way,” Tai said._

“ _That was my thought too. So I made a deal. If they lured Qrow there too, then I would bring the Maiden and help them get the relic. That was the deal.”_

_Tai knitted his brows. “But you had to know that setting a trap for Qrow would also mean a trap for Ruby, and Yang, and the others,” he said._

“ _Of course, you idiot, I planned on that,” she replied. “I haven’t been completely absent, you know, I’ve seen them fight. I knew they could handle it. They would keep Salem’s other pets occupied, and then we would get the relic and leave. We could use the relic to protect the tribe. It was supposed to be simple. Neat.”_

“ _Let me guess,” Tai said, an edge in his voice, “it didn’t go according to plan.”_

“ _It almost did,” she replied, sipping her tea. “I was right that they could handle the goons upstairs. But getting the relic wasn’t quick. Cinder came to the vault with us, and I thought I could be smarter, faster. I- wasn’t.” Raven paused here. Telling Tai about Vernal would mean telling him everything. Losing Vernal hurt, and she desperately wished she could talk about her loss. But her feelings didn’t matter--she was here because she was weak, because she had failed. She had nowhere else to go, and maybe if Tai knew what Yang was getting into, he could help. Or at least help her figure out how to help, how to protect Yang._

“ _Raven... “ Tai said, leaning down to look into her eyes. “What happened?”_

“ _We fought,” she said, sighing. “We won. But it took time. And in that time, the do-gooders upstairs held their own too well--and before I could enter the vault, there was Yang.”_

_Taiyang sighed, and looked down into his own mug. “Yang’s strong. She’s a good fighter, and getting better. But if the two of you fought…”_

“ _We didn’t. Not physically. Yang was angry. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t have it. And… she was right.” Raven took a big gulp from her tea, and Taiyang let out a low whistle. “I tried to be strong, to do what was best for my people,” she continued, “but I was wrong. I was blind. Yang pointed out that with the relic, the tribe would only be a bigger target for Salem, and I would only put my people in more danger.”_

“ _So what did you do?”_

“ _Yang offered to take the relic herself. She said I could take the relic and put a target on my back, on the backs of everyone in the tribe, or Salem could come after her instead. She said, ‘I’ll be standing there. Waiting for her.’ And I realized,” Raven said, her voice wavering, “that Yang had strength I never had. She knew the risks, and she took them anyway. And now,” her voice broke, “Salem’s going to kill Yang. And it will be my fault. Because I wasn’t strong enough, because I couldn’t just turn Cinder away or kill her on the spot, and because when Yang said the relic was better off with her, I knew she was right--and there was no arguing with her. And now...” Raven set her mug down, her hand trembling. She took a gulping breath. “And now… I need to protect my daughter. And I don’t know how.”_

_Tai was silent for a long time._

“ _Well?” She said, through her tears._

_Taiyang sighed. “If Yang being in danger means you failed, then I failed too,” he said. “I raised her to be a fighter. To be a Huntress. And I don’t regret it--the world needs people like Yang. Like you and me, when we were younger. Before you left.”_

_Raven gave a laugh. “You have no idea what the world needs,” she said. “You only ever knew what Ozpin told you. I left because I had to think for myself, had to do what I knew was best.”_

“ _That’s just it, though. You left, Raven. You weren’t around! You didn’t raise Yang, I did! Yang is who she is because I pushed her to be the best she could be. I’m sorry, but all this talk about protecting Yang, and being torn up over her being in danger, that’s great, but where was it before? Where was it when she fell out of the tree when she was nine? When she got sick? Where was it when she lost her arm? 17 years, Raven! 17 years that Yang didn’t have a mother, because you had no interest in being one.”_

“ _I did what I thought was best,” Raven growled through gritted teeth, her hands clenching her mug._

“ _Yeah, and you know what? Sometimes you make mistakes. And I’m sorry, but how do I know you’re being straight with me?” Taiyang asked, rising from his chair to lean forward on the table. “How do I know this is about Yang’s safety, when you haven’t shown any regard for her safety before? How do I know this isn’t about you, regretting letting her take the relic instead of using it to protect your tribe?”_

_Anger and grief rose in Raven, coiled serpents of emotion ready to lash out. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, and she slammed her hand onto the table. “Because I was WRONG!” she shouted. “Because I should have been there, and now that Yang’s found me I’m going to lose her forever, and I’m TRYING to do what’s right for my people!”_

“ _Prove it!” Taiyang shouted back._

_Raven flew to her feet, unable to restrain herself. “I’m TRYING!” she roared, the Maiden-flames bursting from her eyes._

_Tai stumbled back, knocking his chair aside. He backed himself up into the kitchen counter, his eyes wide. “You… you’re the Spring Maiden…” he said quietly. “Raven… Raven, what have you done?”_

_Raven collapsed back into her seat and buried her head in her hands, grasping at the feathers entwined in her hair, and cried. “I did,” she said, gulping for air, “what I thought was best.”_

“ _Raven, please…” Tai said. He walked over and knelt before her chair. “Raven… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Please. I’m trying to listen. Please tell me what’s going on. The whole story.”_

_Raven looked at him through her bleary eyes. She sighed. There was no more hiding. “I… I am the Spring Maiden. We did find the Spring Maiden, years ago, but the power was too much for her to handle. If Salem found us, she would have died. So I did what I thought was the responsible thing, and took the power for myself. I could learn to wield it, and I knew I was strong enough, and smart enough, to keep the power hidden and to use it to protect my tribe. And I did, for a long time. I had a decoy, a woman named Vernal.” Tai raised an eyebrow. “Appropriate name, I know,” Raven said. “It was a coincidence. Vernal was the only one who knew.”_

_Raven paused as the grief welled up. She put her hand to her mouth as she held in the shudder that she knew would only lead to sobs. She took a deep breath, and continued, her voice hoarse. “But Vernal died in the vault. Cinder killed her, and I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to save her. When Yang came down, and I was alone, with the vault open, she realized what I was, and what I had done. It’s why I know she’ll never forgive me, and even if I try to help her, she won’t accept my help. It’s why I know I’ve lost her, just when she came back to me.”_

“ _So… what do you want to do now?” Taiyang asked._

“ _I don’t know,” she said. She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was shut out the world and cry. But she knew she could not. “I don’t want Yang to go up against Salem alone. I know she has her friends, and Qrow, for all that I can’t stand that idiot, is a good fighter. But even so…”_

“ _...you want to help her, if you can, even if she won’t accept your help directly,” Tai finished for her._

“ _Yes. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”_

_Taiyang chuckled. “You know, you and Yang have a lot in common. After her arm… she also worried she wasn’t strong enough, then or before, when she hadn’t been able to protect Blake. Once we got her the prosthetic, she wanted to get back in the fight. She’d regained her strength, and the new arm was in some ways an improvement. See? Even though you weren’t there, she’s grown up just like you. All about strength. I told her that sometimes, using your strength to go through an obstacle isn’t the best solution. Sometimes you need to get a different perspective, and find a way around it. Strength isn’t everything, Raven. Sometimes what’s more important is just… being there. Being there for your friends, for your family. For Yang. Yang may not want to work directly with you, and she may disagree with what you thought was best. Honestly? I kinda do too. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”_

_Raven looked sharply at him, an eyebrow raised._

“ _No, don’t worry, I’m not pining after you--but you’ll always be someone I care about. How could I not? After all those years together? You’re my daughter’s mother! And that’s my point. Family is there for each other--because we love each other, and we support each other. Like you and your tribe--I’ve always admired the dedication you have to them. I wish you had included me and Yang in the group of people you stood by and supported--but I understand that I can’t change the past. All I can do is be glad that you’re here, now--and that you’ve told me what happened.”_

_What Tai was saying was a lot for Raven to process. He was right that the years with him had been good--it had been nice to have a team, to know that they had her back. Leaving had been hard, though she could not have helped her tribe, nor protected the power of the Spring Maiden, nor stopped Cinder had she stayed. Maybe Tai was right. But even if she wanted to support Yang...._

_She smiled weakly at him. “Thank you, Tai.” She finished her tea and set the mug away from her on the table. “What do you think I should do?”_

“ _Well,” he said, “I think if you want to help Yang, you should. Just because you can’t force her to work with you doesn’t mean you can’t help her. Maybe there’s something else you can do to pave her way, or even the odds.”_

“ _And what about you?” she asked._

“ _Well, I don’t know how much I can do these days--I’m not the young fighter I used to be. But if it’s gotten to this point, maybe I should try to help too. It’s not much use keeping a home for them to come back to if Salem wins. I don’t know where they’re going next--but if you find out and tell me, I’ll certainly see what I can do. I still talk to the professors from Beacon--maybe we can bring them reinforcements.”_

“ _Yeah. I can do that,” she said._

_Tai stood from where he had been kneeling, collected the mugs, and brought them to the sink. As he began washing them out, he said, “for now, though, why don’t you stay the night? You’ve been through a lot, and there’s no need to rush right back into the fight. Stay and regain your energy, until you’re ready to get back into it. I can make up one of the guest bedrooms for you.”_

_Raven smiled to herself. “Thanks, Tai. I’d like that.”_

~

_Taiyang tossed the weed over his shoulder, then smoothed over the soil around the base of the sunflower. He liked having the sunflowers here outside the window, but the exposed soil and bright sunlight meant he had to weed frequently. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked up at the reflection of the clouds on the window pane. Behind him, he heard the sound of Raven’s portal. He turned to look--but she had already left. A single feather floated to the ground from where the portal had been. He sighed. Some things would just never change._

~

Janmu had sat in silence for nearly an hour, trying to process his dilemma, while Raven sipped cup after cup of tea out of the lid of Janmu’s water canteen. He didn’t understand how she could just sit there so calmly, when the forest was supposedly full of horrible monsters. She was truly terrifying. So much so that he figured there was a good chance that traveling with her would lead to his death, either at her hand or from an anxiety-induced heart attack. But could he survive out here on his own? _“I always survive,”_ Raven had said. Janmu sighed. Raven was right. He did want to survive. Quite a bit. It was in fact his number one priority. He was lost out here in the woods, with only the vaguest sense of direction. He and Petunia hadn’t encountered many Grimm, but if Raven was right and they had just gotten lucky, or something… if she left, they would surely die. The light was beginning to dim, and his fingers cast shadows that danced across his palms in the firelight. He didn’t have strong hands--his were soft and gentle. Even just holding a weapon was asking a lot. All he wanted was to go home.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come with you. But on one condition--no, two conditions!” Raven raised an eyebrow. “You have to take me to Petunia,” he continued, “and you have to help me get home.”

“And where is home?” Raven asked, her eyes lost in the shadows of her long, messy black hair.

“Atla--Mantle. I’m from Mantle,” he sighed, and hung his head. “See? I’m nobody. Just a low-life from Mantle who thought he could meet people and make something of himself. Try my jokes on my squad-mates, and maybe one day get on a stage. I don’t know why you like me so much. I don’t like me that much, if I’m being perfectly honest with you. But I know Petunia likes me, and I like Petunia. So if you’ll please, just take me to Petunia so we can get home…”

Raven had been reclining against the base of a tree at the opposite side of the clearing, her legs outstretched with her black boots warming near the fire. She set her cup of tea on the ground and sat forward, crossing her legs beneath her. “Tell me,” she said, “if you’re nobody, and you don’t matter, then your opinion doesn’t matter either, right?” Janmu nodded. It was the obvious conclusion. “Then why should I trust your opinion on whether or not you matter?” she asked.

Janmu looked up, confused. That… wasn’t how he was used to thinking about it. But he couldn’t really see a flaw in the argument. And it was oddly uplifting. “Wait… was that a compliment?” he asked.

“That remains to be seen,” she replied. “You may not think much of yourself, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have potential. Don’t forget that you survived that crash--with barely a scratch. Nobody else did. Don’t tell me that was nothing. And your tateru seems to like you. So I’d say it seems you have some kind of potential. Which is why I want you to come with me--so we can see what kind of potential it is, and whether it can be useful.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you take me to Petunia.”

Raven groaned. “Fine,” she snapped. “You can have your giant rodent.” She rose to her feet, and pulled her sword out of its scabbard in an enormous arc, opening a swirling violet portal several meters high in the air next to her. “I’ll stay here and tend the fire, and drink my tea,” she said. “Don’t stay too long, or you’ll never get home.”

“How do I know you won’t just close the portal behind me and trap me who-knows-where forever?”

“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Janmu sighed. She was right. Okay, Private Laney, time to be brave and rescue Petunia. He got to his feet, dusted off his uniform, and marched straight into the portal.

Janmu stepped out onto soft, green grass. It was starting to grow tall, and waved gently in the breeze. He appeared to be at the edge of a small clearing, with a house constructed of large timbers at the edge of the clearing. Golden sunlight filtered through the amber leaves of a maple tree, dappling the ground in front of him. That was odd, he thought--the sun had been lower in the sky back at the campfire. Had he traveled in time? He noticed then that the air was different--much warmer, and carrying a soft, loamy, almost floral smell, rather than the sharp smell of conifers that he was used to. He stepped forward into the clearing, noticing now the large sunflowers growing in wooden boxes in front of the house’s windows. There was not a single weed growing between them. He had never seen such beautiful, large, yellow flowers before.

As he was admiring the flowers, he heard a squeal from the corner of the house. He turned to look, and there was Petunia! She had just come around the corner of the house, carrying a small pile of logs, which she immediately dropped as she lumbered toward him.

“PETUNIA!” he shouted, and ran forward to meet her, burying himself in her fur as they embraced. He could feel Petunia snuffling in his ear, letting out soft, short squeaks. Janmu felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Come on, Petunia,” he said. “Let’s go home.” He grabbed her paw and started leading her back to the portal.

“Hey, wait!” cried a man’s voice from behind them.

Janmu turned to see who had spoken to them. A tall, well-built man wearing a brown jerkin, baggy pants with large pockets, and a large, battered iron pauldron on his right shoulder had followed Petunia around the corner of the house, carrying his own small pile of logs. He set down his pile at the side of the house and brushed his messy sand-colored bangs out of his eyes as he straightened up.

“Wait, I want to talk to you!” the man said. He looked anxiously from Petunia to Janmu, and started hurriedly walking towards them.

Janmu ran. He had had enough encounters with strangers for one day. As he closed the distance to the portal, he called over his shoulder, “Come on Petunia, no more strangers. Home! We’re going home!”

Except Petunia wasn’t following him. She stood where he had left her, looking back and forth between the anxious man and Janmu, looking distressed and confused.

“Petunia!” He said. “Petunia, please!”

“ _Toorooru,”_ she said mournfully, her shoulders hunched and her ears drooping.

“Hey man, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt either of you,” the man said, putting his hands out placatingly. “I just want to talk. When this tateru showed up an hour ago… man, it was good timing! I had all this wood to collect and carry in, and she was more than happy to help--clearly tamed. Petunia’s a good name for her.”

“Who are you? Where are we, and why are we here? What have you done to my dear Petunia that she won’t come with me?” Janmu demanded.

The man chuckled. “Slow down, there, that’s a lot of questions. I haven’t done anything to Petunia. Although I did give her a sunflower head to eat. She liked that a lot. I guess maybe she was reluctant to pass up the opportunity for more. As for who I am and where we are, my name is Taiyang Xiao Long. You can call me Tai. I live here,” he said, gesturing at the clearing. “We’re on the island of Patch. Not far from Vale.”

Janmu’s jaw dropped. “ _Vale?!_ ”

“Heh, I’m guessing Raven didn’t tell you much,” Taiyang said, crossing his arms. “Which answers at least one of my questions. You traveled here through a portal that Raven created. It’s a bridge between two places, and it works no matter how far apart they are. As for why you’re here, I was actually hoping you could tell me! I know Raven sent you here, and I’m guessing she sent Petunia here too. But Raven doesn’t usually, ah, like members of the military,” he said, gesturing to Janmu’s crumpled and dirty uniform. “Why don’t you come inside and chat? I’ve got questions for you, and I’m willing to bet you have some questions about Raven. Maybe I can answer them for you.”

Taiyang seemed kind--much kinder than Raven had been. Relaxing with him indoors definitely sounded more appealing than going back to Raven’s campfire. But Patch was incredibly far from Atlas, and Raven had warned Janmu not to stay too long. If she closed the portal and he was stuck here, he would never get home.

“Look, Taiyang, I really appreciate the offer,” Janmu said, “but she did say she would close the portal if I stayed too long, and look man, I just want to go home!”

Taiyang sighed. “If you insist. But please--at least tell me where you and Raven are going.”

Janmu opened his mouth to tell him, then closed it again. Street smarts. He had to remember his street smarts. “Hang on, I don’t know you. You’re a stranger. Why should I tell a stranger where I’m going?”

A pained look crossed Taiyang’s face. He looked down, and said, “My daughter. Yang. She’s… in some trouble, and could use my help. But I don’t know where she is. Raven… is good at finding Yang. I think wherever she’s going, that’s where Yang is. And I think Raven wants to help her too. But she wouldn’t tell me what her plan was, or where she was going. If you tell me where Raven is going, maybe I can help my daughter.”

“How do I know you even have a daughter? And why would Raven be good at finding her?” Janmu demanded. “That seems weirdly specific!”

“Raven is Yang’s mother.”

“Wait, so you…” Janmu started, pointing at Tai.

“I was Raven’s husband, yes.”

“But she’s _terrifying!_ ”

Tai laughed. “Yes, she can be pretty intense. She’s a good person, though. She wants to protect the people close to her. And she’s incredibly dedicated to that cause.”

“Why doesn’t Raven just use one of those portal thingies to get to… Yang, was it?” Janmu asked. He was glad she hadn’t or she wouldn’t have been around to help him and Petunia get home safely. Janmu glanced over his shoulder to make sure the portal was still there. The large, swirling, violet vortex remained just where it had been since he stepped through it.

“Yang, yes. That’s a good question! Raven can only open portals to specific people, so she can’t just open a portal to whatever town Yang’s in,” Tai explained. “If she uses a portal to get there, chances are she’s going to have to talk to Yang. Whatever Raven is planning… I’m guessing she doesn’t want to talk to Yang just yet. So she’s going the long way. Speaking of which--you haven’t told me where she’s going.”

Janmu struck what he hoped was a defiant pose. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”

Tai shrugged, and said, “Hey man, I already told you I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not keeping you here. But you’d be helping a dad and his daughter if you told me. I promise I’m not gonna hurt you, and you have my word that I won’t follow you through that portal--I know enough not to force myself into Raven’s journey. And I don’t have portals of my own to travel through; wherever you’re going, I’m going there the old-fashioned way.”

Janmu considered it. He supposed he would have to trust Tai. He definitely couldn’t take Tai in a fight if it came to it.

“Atlas. We’re going to Atlas,” he said at last. “And I appreciate you not threatening to kill us when we first met, and being gracious to Petunia, enough that she doesn’t seem to want to leave. Petunia!” he called. “Come on, let’s go!” Petunia stamped her feet in place and chittered quietly at him, then looked at Taiyang quizzically.

Taiyang smiled at Petunia. “I’m guessing you don’t have sunflowers in Atlas. I probably shouldn’t have given her one earlier. Here, I’ll get you one for the road.” He walked over to the row of sunflowers in front of the window, and plucked a head from one of the smaller plants. He walked over to Janmu, and handed him the flower.

“Probably best if you give it to her,” Tai said. “And hey--thanks for telling me where you were going. By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Janmu. Private Janmu Laney,” Janmu said.

“Thanks, Janmu,” Tai said, reaching out to shake his hand. “One more thing. When you see my daughter, tell her I’m on my way. I don’t know what Raven’s planning--Yang might need that reassurance.”

Janmu smiled. “I can do that,” he said. As he held out the sunflower to Petunia, though, it occurred to him that Taiyang’s concern seemed a bit ominous. He stepped into the portal, the newly-enthusiastic Petunia close behind. Raven could help him get home, he thought, but perhaps he would be wise to keep his guard up. He crossed through into the deepening gloom around the campfire, and saw Raven look up from her tea, her eyes sharp and red. He looked back over his shoulder. As the portal closed behind Petunia, he saw Tai, bathed in golden sunlight, give a warm smile.

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.   
---|---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: if you make a minor character from the show a major part of two scenes, you're not gonna have a ton of reference material to inform your characterization.


	6. Sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover teaches Qrow about temtem in the Atlas training room. They have a sparring match and work up a sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks once again to [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) for beta-reading and offering truly excellent critiques, suggestions, and edits. I know I advertised initially a planned posting schedule of a chapter every week or two, but life got in the way. Hopefully I can get back to that schedule now.
> 
> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is available at the end of the chapter as a visual reference.
> 
> A podfic version of this chapter is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/track/chapter-5-sweat>.

“Think anyone will bother us in here?” Qrow asked.

“I doubt it,” Clover replied, as he keyed in the access code to the training room. “These days, this room is mostly only used for scheduled training sessions.” The door slid open, and Clover gestured for Qrow to enter first. “I checked on my scroll as we walked; this room should be free for at least the rest of the afternoon. Why, are you worried someone will see us training?”

Qrow ran a hand through his hair as he strode across the grid inlaid on the training room floor. “Nah, nothing like that,” he said. “I’d just prefer to avoid distractions. You’ve met my nieces. I love them, but I’m not gonna learn much if they’re here. Though… now that you mention it,” he said, turning back and pointing at Clover, “I don’t want Winter seeing this. Or knowing about it.”

Clover was taken aback. “Special Operative Schnee?” he asked. “She’s one of the best huntresses we have. The Ace-Ops and I would trust her with our lives.”

“That’s exactly it,” Qrow replied. “She’s one of the best, she knows it, and she doesn’t like me. Winter and I… have a bit of a history.”

“Fair enough. Is it anything you want to talk about? If we’re going to work together effectively on the Amity Project, we all need to be able to trust each other,” Clover said, crossing his arms.

“Look, let’s just get on with it. Show me how to use a zeffer--zefra--”

“Zephyruff,” Clover offered.

“--zephyruff,” Qrow said, pulling out the crystalline card Clover had given him.

“Alright,” Clover said. Qrow’s antipathy towards Winter Schnee worried him, but he set it aside. They had a lot of work to do to ensure team readiness, but he couldn’t tackle all of it at once. Helping Qrow operate with maximum effectiveness could take precedence, for now.

Clover pulled out his scroll and summoned two single raised blocks out of the floor, and took a seat on one, and indicated that Qrow should take the other one. Qrow sat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

”So,” he said, holding up the card. “How do I work this thing?”

“It’s pretty simple,” Clover began. “The card is activated by both voice and motion. Toss it in the air, and say something. It doesn’t have to be anything specific; most temtem tamers will just call out their temtem’s name. Or they’ll have a phrase they always use, like ‘I choose you’ or something.”

“Okay,” Qrow said. “Does this temtem have a name?”

“Not yet,” Clover said. “I only caught it recently. Unlike Nora, I don’t name mine immediately; I like to get to know them a bit first.”

Qrow took a deep breath. “Okay then.” He tossed the card into the air, and said, “uh, temtem up, I guess?” The card flashed in the air, and a fluffy dark blue bird fluttered to the floor between Qrow and Clover. It looked up inquisitively at the two men, then began preening its neck feathers, its plumage shimmering with a red iridescence.

Clover smirked at Qrow. “Temtem up?” he asked.

“Hey, you try coming up with something on the spot,” Qrow said. He leaned forward and held a finger out to the zephyruff. The bird hopped forward and examined the finger, its head cocked to one side. “So what now?”

“Temtem will only work with you if they trust you,” Clover said. “What you’re doing now is good--let it get to know you, get comfortable with you. Then we’ll try having you give it some commands.”

Qrow raised his eyebrows in surprise. “They can understand us?”

“Temtem are quite intelligent, Qrow. Do you know what separates temtem from other animals?”

“To be honest, I’ve never put much thought into it,” Qrow responded.

Clover nodded. “Most people haven’t. But it’s the same thing that separates us Huntsmen from most other humans and Faunus. We have our semblances. Temtem and animals both have Aura, just like everything else with a soul. But temtem are those species that have evolved the ability to use their Auras and harness their semblances.”

“But unlocking your semblance can take years,” Qrow protested. “It takes hard work, training, and self-awareness.”

“Exactly. Temtem possess awareness, and the capacity to learn, to train. So they’re quite intelligent, and just like you and me, their Aura allows them to sense things--threats, impending attacks, another creature’s intentions. That alone isn’t enough to understand us, though. One of the breakthroughs the Schnee Corporation’s scientists made was finding a way for the Temcards to translate our speech into the kind of intention the temtem can sense through its Aura.”

Qrow nodded. “That’s a neat trick,” he said. He lowered himself to the floor in front of his cube and sat cross-legged in front of the zephyruff. “C’mere, birdie,” he said, holding both hands out. The zephyruff looked at his hands, then up at Qrow, and froze for several seconds as it locked eyes with Qrow.

Suddenly and without warning, it leapt forward in a flurry of feathers. Clover jumped to his feet--the encounter had been going well; he didn’t understand why the zephyruff would attack without being provoked. But Qrow didn’t seem to be in distress--the bird hadn’t attacked, but instead had landed on the lapel of Qrow’s waistcoat, and was now gently nibbling at Qrow’s neck and ear.

Qrow laughed as he tried to pull the zephyruff away from his neck. “Hey, hey, come on now,” he said, delicately transferring the bird to his chest, where he cradled it against his breast, and gently scratched behind one of the two feathered crests above the bird’s eyes. “That’s right. That’s enough of that,” he said, his red eyes sparkling as he wagged his finger at the bird. In response, the bird attempted to nip at his finger. He went back to stroking its head, and the zephyruff began making small _coo-_ ing sounds.

Clover sat back down onto his cube. He shook his head. He had never seen that kind of response. Of course, he had also never seen anything like Nora’s introduction to her new temtem, either. It seemed this band of huntsmen and huntresses had several surprises in store.

“Alright Qrow,” he said, “I’m impressed! On to the next step--getting it to do things for you.” He pulled a Temcard from his pocket, and flicked it into the air beside him. His iridescent green tuwai, Temerity, emerged in a flash of light and landed on Clover’s outstretched arm.

“Hey, how did you do that?” Qrow asked, his eyes wide in confusion. “You didn’t say anything.”

Clover winked. “Remember what I said about their Auras and intentions? If you bond well enough with your temtem, you don’t need to talk to communicate a simple intention.”

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “So coming up with a stupid phrase… that wasn’t necessary, then.”

Clover laughed. “Oh, it was. That zephyruff may have taken a liking to you, but it takes more than that--it takes some emotional investment in the relationship. It takes commitment. Temerity here,” he said, reaching out a hand to stroke her broad, green feathers, “has been with me for years now. Anyway, since the zephyruff clearly likes you, any ideas for a name?”

“Heh,” Qrow said, staring down at the bundle of iridescent red and blue feathers. Clover felt an unfamiliar emotion rise in him, watching Qrow lose himself in the zephyruff in his arms. He didn’t know why, but the way the other man looked at the bird both made his heart race and flooded him with satisfaction. It almost seemed to Clover that Qrow was glowing as he stroked the zephyruff’s head.

“I’ll call her Summer,” he said.

Clover smiled. “It’s a nice name,” he said. “Fitting, too. I find that naming temtem makes it easier to communicate what I want them to do in battle.” Qrow glanced up at Clover, and a brief look of surprise flashed across his face.

“Uh, right,” he said, one hand nervously playing with the feathered crests on Summer’s head. “Battle.” Clover found he couldn’t quite place the way Qrow was looking at Summer. The man had been glowing just moments earlier. Clover realized nothing had changed about the way Qrow was looking at Summer--but what he had initially interpreted as a warm glow of satisfaction he now realized had shades of melancholy.

Clover shook himself. “Anyway,” he began cautiously, “what do you say we try a few maneuvers, and then once you’ve got the hang of communicating with Summer, do some sparring?”

“Yeah,” Qrow said. “Let’s do that.”

“Great!” Clover said, relieved that they were back to familiar territory. “First thing’s first: positioning. Temerity!” he called to his own temtem. “Gain some height!” Immediately, Temerity launched herself from his arm, climbing rapidly with each enormous wingbeat, until she was lost in the glare of the training room lights. “Like before,” he said to Qrow, “it doesn’t matter what you say, as long as you can visualize and communicate what you want her to do.”

“Seems simple enough,” Qrow said. He picked himself up off the floor, and cupped Summer in his hands. “Summer, go land on Clover.” The zephyruff cheeped at him, and in a flurry of feathers flew the short distance to Clover’s shoulder. She perched daintily and turned around to face Qrow, cocking her head to one side.

Clover grinned. “Cute,” he said, “but you should always be aware of how your temtem’s positioning affects your own.” Clover flicked his eyes up to the ceiling. “ _Dive.”_

A green streak split the air as Temerity plummeted toward Qrow, pulling up with a screech mere inches from the floor as Qrow deftly rolled away.

“Hey!” Qrow growled, panting. “Summer. _Peck._ ”

Clover yelped in surprise as the zephyruff sharply nipped his ear, and jumped aside. Summer took to the air at the sudden movement, and hovered in the air indignantly.

“I thought we were playing fair, here,” Qrow said, circling around Clover and away from Temerity, who had taken up a position of her own several feet above Qrow’s head.

Clover chuckled. “Best way to learn is through experience,” he said. “I understand you were a professor at one point; I have a hard time believing you were the sort to just stand at a chalkboard.”

The corner of Qrow’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “You’re not wrong,” he said. “So what’s next, Professor Ebi?”

“You can use your temtem to help you fight other people, but sometimes it makes sense to target the opponent’s temtem. Temerity,” Clover called to the large green bird, “ _Wind Blast._ ” Temerity soared high above them, and her Aura glowed blue as she slammed her wings together. A powerful burst of pressurized air shot through the air and slammed into Summer, wisps of condensation forming in its wake. Summer chittered angrily as the blast knocked her back, her purple Aura flickering as it took the brunt of the hit.

Qrow winced. “Summer, return the favor,” he said. Summer, however, merely chirped and looked at Qrow in confusion.

“Different temtem have different abilities, like our semblances,” Clover explained. He gestured at Temerity. “Tuwais, like Temerity, have the ability to manipulate and shape the air around them. Zephyruffs can too, but not in the same way. They can, however, use their Aura to temporarily poison their opponents.”

Qrow crossed his arms. “Poison, huh?” He looked at Summer for a few seconds, then sighed. “Alright, then. Summer… you know what to do.”

Summer shot through the air and began weaving around Temerity’s head, carving tight arcs through the air. With each banking turn, Summer’s aura glowed brighter, and a purple fog filled the air around Temerity. Temerity gave a sad, wheezing honk as she tried to evade Summer’s attack, but to no avail. As Temerity began to drop, Summer finally relented, gliding back to Qrow and landing on his shoulder with a satisfied chirp. Temerity’s Aura wavered as she fluttered down to the ground, where she gave small, sad _caws_ as she slowly waddled over to Clover.

Qrow exhaled, and ran a hand through his hair. “I dunno how I feel about poisoning your temtem,” he said to Clover.

Clover nodded as he bent down to gather Temerity into his arms. He never liked seeing Temerity get hurt. “I don’t like it either,” he said. “But when your temtem trust you, they learn to take hits, and to trust that you’ll have their backs, just like a teammate. Or,” he said, looking up at Qrow, “a partner. Fortunately for us, Aura heals our wounds. It does the same for temtem. And one of the advantages of Temcards is that we can speed that up.”

Qrow looked confused. “Like Jaune’s semblance?”

“Exactly. Atlas scientists have been doing research on Aura manipulation--”

“--like the machine to transfer the Fall Maiden’s powers,” Qrow interjected.

“--yes, for example. And also the technology that was used to make Penny,” Clover added. Ironwood had told Clover that Qrow had expressed some opposition to the Aura transfer machine when it was built. He himself had had reservations about that particular application when Ironwood had told him about the Maidens and Cinder, but he felt sure neither he nor Qrow had any qualms about Penny. “As part of that research,” he continued, “we learned that Aura can be amplified with Dust. So we partnered with the Schnee Dust Company to build a machine to heal temtem while in their Temcards.”

Qrow nodded. “Speaking of Temcards,” he said, “what happened to the cards when our temtem came out? They just kind of vanished. Do I need a new Temcard every time?”

Clover chuckled. “Fortunately, no. You can just tell Summer to go back to her card. The Temcard never really goes away--it’s made of Dust, and merges with the temtem’s Aura when they’re caught. They can return to the card at any time. Temerity,” he said to the large bird in his arms, “why don’t we heal you up?”

Temerity cawed softly. Her Aura gave a white flash and she was replaced with a shimmering Temcard that Clover snagged deftly out of the air.

“Summer, do you want to do the same?” Qrow asked the zephyruff on his shoulder. She chirped, and in a flash of white returned to her Temcard, which bounced off of Qrow’s shoulder and clattered to the floor. He swiftly bent down to pick it up. “Uh, she wouldn’t have felt that, would she?” he asked.

Clover shook his head. “No way to know for sure, but we don’t think so,” he said. “Come on, we’ve got a HealTem station over by the wall. Let’s get our temtem healed, and then try some real sparring.”

“HealTem, eh?” Qrow asked with a smirk as they walked across the training room floor.

Clover winked at him. “Not my idea, but I can’t say I dislike it,” he said with a grin. Qrow simply shook his head.

The HealTem machine was a large contraption that stood taller than Clover and spanned the width of the two men. The bulk of its face was a large screen, and below the screen were a dozen card-sized slots. Clover inserted Temerity’s Temcard into a slot, and Qrow placed Summer in the neighboring one. Clover pressed a button next to the screen, and two Temcard schematics appeared on screen, displaying outlines of each temtem along with a range of diagnostics.

Several minutes later, both temtem were fully healed. Clover removed Temerity’s Temcard from the machine, and turned back to Qrow. “Seems like you’ve got the basic maneuvers down,” he said, rolling his shoulders and beginning to limber up. “Ready to put it all together in a sparring match?”

Qrow plucked Summer’s card from the slot and turned it over between his fingers. He glanced dubiously at the card, then looked Clover up and down for several seconds, and Clover began to wonder if he was pushing Qrow too fast. In the next moment, however, Qrow’s expression changed, the dubious look replaced by a confident smirk.

“Yeah,” he said, as he drew Harbinger and extended it into its enormous scythe form. “I think I am.”

The Atlas training room’s potential was wasted, Clover thought, as he swung through the air. All of the training configurations the Ace-Ops used were modeled around urban fights, with tall pillars and walls, or low piles of blocks meant to replicate rubble. And that was okay for training to defend Mantle and Atlas. But a fully licensed Huntsman needed to be able to fight all over Remnant. And with a training room whose Dust blocks could be arranged in infinite ways, there was no reason not to get creative. So over the past several weeks he had quietly designed a new configuration to expand the Ace-Ops training regimen, which he had now loaded for his fight with Qrow.

Clover landed on a narrow row of blocks winding out from a tall, thin pillar and turned to admire his design. Rather than take cues from the usual urban environment, he had begun with a forest. A raised platform in the middle was surrounded by four large columns, supporting a second platform several meters above it. Surrounding and towering above the structure were tree-like spires, with winding branches of Dust blocks jutting out at various heights, here and there meeting each other to form narrow catwalks and low-hanging arches. Around the bases of the ‘trees’ he had scattered small walls and the usual rubble piles, while the tops of the spires anchored extensive cloud-like platforms high above the floor.

Temerity flew into view from around the pillar. Clover extended an arm, and she landed on it.

“Hiding, eh?” Clover said to her. “Well, let’s see if we can’t flush him out. You stay hidden up above; I’ll draw his attention down on the floor.” Temerity launched herself up towards the cloud platforms, and Clover leapt nimbly down to the floor. Ahead of him was the jumbled mass of tree-spires and branches that enveloped the central platform. Clover dove for the nearest rubble pile, then scrambled past to a low wall and peeked around it. Still no sign of Qrow. He scurried ahead and ducked beneath a branch into the shadows.

As Clover began to step forward to the next branch, a feathery blur shot past his face. He launched himself forward, tucking into a roll to clear the low-hanging blocks jutting across his path. A purple mist filled the space he had just vacated. He reached out with his Aura, finding Summer’s small form banking around for another pass, and then… Clover leaned backwards as Harbinger sliced through the air in front of him. He spun and swung Kingfisher’s shaft forward, and with a metallic _clang_ , Qrow parried his blow with Harbinger’s blade. Qrow stepped out from the shadows grinning, still pressing Harbinger’s broadsword form into Kingfisher’s shaft.

“Not so easy to hide in here, eh, Teach?” he asked.

Clover laughed. “Oh, I wasn’t the one hiding. _Temerity!_ ” He squeezed the grip on Kingfisher’s shaft, launching the harpoon into the air. Temerity shot out from between the tops of the tree-spires and grabbed the harpoon in her talons. _Air burst_ , thought Clover, and winked at Qrow. Temerity’s Aura flashed as the line went taut, and with a powerful wingbeat, Clover felt himself pulled off the ground. He pressed Harbinger back against Qrow, and as he rose into the air, planted both feet into Qrow’s chest and pushed off, launching himself into a high arc. _Let go, Temerity_ , he thought, and let his momentum carry him through a slow backflip, landing on one of the smaller platforms suspended between the trees, just as Kingfisher’s reel finished retracting the harpoon.

Qrow looked at him incredulously. “Don’t tell me you’ve used that in a real fight,” he said.

Clover grinned. “Once,” he said. He looked up at Temerity, who was circling lazily overhead. _Temerity, pin him down_ , he thought to her. She folded her wings and silently dove, pulling up several meters behind Qrow. Her Aura flashed, and several translucent feathers began to materialize around her. As she was about to launch them at Qrow, however, Summer shot out from behind a branch and slammed into her. Temerity squawked, and the feathers went wild, one narrowly missing Clover.

Qrow flipped Harbinger around and fired its shotgun blast at the floor, propelling himself into the air toward Clover. Clover stepped back from the edge of the platform and readied Kingfisher as Qrow twirled through the air, bringing Harbinger around as a whirling scythe. Steel clashed against steel as Qrow landed on the platform, and Clover found himself being slowly pushed back by the tempo and persistence of Qrow’s strikes. Harbinger sang through the air, Qrow’s hands deftly guiding its long handle through dizzying rotations. Clover supposed this was why they had all heard stories about Qrow Branwen’s martial prowess while at the Academy. The man and his weapon were truly united; his lithe body pivoting and bending at exactly the right moment so that what should have been a foolish spin that would have left Qrow open to a strike instead brought Harbinger around into a second strike here, a parry there.

Clover looked over to Temerity, but she was weaving around branches as gouts of purple vapor shot forth from her avian opponent, returning her own crystalline volleys into the purple clouds as she wheeled. For the moment, he was on his own. Glancing behind himself between parries, he noticed that Qrow had pushed him across the platform, and he was coming perilously close to the edge. _Temerity,_ he thought, as he brought Kingfisher up to block yet another frenzied blow, _I could use you over here._ As he ducked a shoulder-height swing and responded with a low sweep that was inexplicably parried yet again ( _how was Qrow moving that fast?_ ), he saw Temerity shoot towards the platform, each furious wingbeat scooping the air to gain speed. Closing in behind her, Summer was tearing through the air, her rapidly-beating wings carving a turbulent wake through the wisps of toxic purple smoke wafting through the tree-like spires.

Temerity crested the far edge of the platform just as Summer’s talons raked into her Aura, and gave a single powerful beat of her wings before squawking and wheeling to deal with the smaller but more-present threat that Summer posed. Clover stepped back over the edge of the platform as Qrow pressed forward to strike. The sudden absence of Kingfisher against Harbinger’s blade caused Qrow to lurch forward, just as the cone of pressurized air from Temerity’s wingbeat slammed into his back. He stumbled forward into Clover, and the two men fell backwards off the edge of the platform.

Clover had anticipated the fall, and spun in the air, giving Qrow a deft push toward the floor and hurling Kingfisher’s hook at a branch from the neighboring tree-spire. Qrow quickly overcame his shock and righted himself in time to land on his feet, if a little heavily, but Clover had already pulled Kingfisher’s line tight and used the tension to swing himself away in a wide arc. As he came around the base of the spire, he pulled the small iron horseshoe from his belt and flung it at Qrow. The other huntsman's eyes widened in surprise as the horseshoe hit his chest and knocked him off-balance, just as Clover released Kingfisher’s hook and sailed through the air directly at Qrow.

Clover planted his feet into Qrow’s open chest as he made contact, and allowed his weight to carry them both to the floor. He quickly pinned Qrow’s shoulders, and paused to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

“You’re pretty incredible,” he said to Qrow between panting breaths. “Fast learner.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Qrow replied, still winded from the horseshoe to the gut. “You had some tricks up your sleeve. Or would have, if you had sleeves.”

“I find they get in the way,” Clover replied with a smirk.

“Heh, I would too if I had biceps like those.”

Clover was about to ask Qrow if he was ready to concede the match, when suddenly his world turned upside-down as something slammed into his side with ferocious intensity. In a flash, he was on his back, and Qrow was on top of him, straddling his waist and leaning on his chest with the enormous flat of Harbinger’s blade. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of blue and iridescent red. He looked over and into Summer’s eye, which was suddenly very close to his own. She chirped and gave his forehead a dainty peck.

He looked back up at Qrow. The huntsman was leaning close, his red eyes just inches away. Clover could see beads of sweat glistening against Qrow’s hairline, and as he breathed in, found himself overwhelmed. The man’s scent was earthy, with hints of pine and crisp mountain air. Despite himself, Clover found himself breathing deeply, trying to take in more of the complex bouquet.

The sensation was irresistible and intoxicating.

“Guess I had some tricks up my sleeves, too,” Qrow said with a smirk.

“Huh--oh, uh, yes,” Clover stammered. “Incredible,” he said again, conscious of Qrow’s weight against his hips, and the hand resting firmly on his shoulder. Qrow was slim and lithe, but surprisingly strong. A large flutter to his left told him that Temerity had landed, and moments later a concerned large orange beak blocked his view.

“What do you say?” Qrow asked. “Heal our temtem and go again, or is that enough for today?”

Before Clover could respond, there was a surprised squeal from the edge of the room, quickly cut short.

“Uncle _Qrow?_ ” asked a muffled voice.

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tuwai

Oh, yeah, Tuwais! These are neat birds. Big--each wing is nearly a metre long. Very intelligent, and while you might think they could repeat speech back at you, I tried telling one a joke once, and it just screamed at me. Oh well. They're found in tropical forests.   
---|---  
| 

### Zephyruff

Okay, I get that they're cute, and fit in the palm of your hand, but seriously? Zephyruffs are one of the most venomous flying temtems. A single sneeze and you get gassed. Fortunately they're very rare. They nest on cliffs near Argus. On an unrelated note, never visit your aunt in Argus.   
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out if you want to block out a fight in the training room, Minecraft is an excellent tool for doing so. For the closest texture, I recommend the Dried Kelp Block (no really).


	7. Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janmu and Raven find themselves in a tight spot, and Raven has an unexpected encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is included at the end of the chapter as a visual reference.
> 
> A podfic version of this chapter is available at <https://aparrotandaqrow.bandcamp.com/track/chapter-6-rush>.

Janmu’s sleeve tore as he stumbled backwards through the underbrush, the fabric catching on a sharp branch. The Beowolf rebounded off the tree Janmu had abandoned just moments before and lunged after him. Janmu’s heart climbed into his mouth as he turned and ran, his pulse matching the tempo of the raindrops that splattered against the leaves of the trees overhead.

“Raven!” he shouted, as he vaulted over a fallen log. He landed heavily, and his foot shot out from under him on a mat of sodden leaves. Janmu lunged for any purchase that would keep him upright, finding a handful of sharp branches. He hauled on the branches, but instead of pulling himself forward, the bush they belonged to emerged from the thin soil with a squelch, and Janmu collapsed into the leaf litter beneath the log.

“I’m a little busy!” Raven snarled, her voice distant and muffled by the forest. Janmu was now far enough away that he could barely get a glimpse of her, catching only flashes of red and blurs of movement as she worked through the pack of Beowolves. They had been searching for a place to make camp for the night, or at least until the rain passed, when they stumbled upon the pack. Janmu had estimated there were several dozen in the clearing before they turned and ran.

The Beowolf cleared the log and skittered through the leaves in front of Janmu, claws scrabbling as it tried to slow its momentum. Janmu tried to scoot backwards under the log, but in his frenzied panic succeeded only in repeatedly ramming his shoulder and head against it. His hand fumbled for his pocket, his skin catching against the soaked fabric. He ripped through the uncooperative seams and found the Temcard. As the Beowolf managed to turn itself around, he wiped the sweat, rain, and tears out of his eyes, and flicked the card into the air.

_Petunia. Please._

The enormous tateru appeared in the air just as the Beowulf launched itself at Janmu. Petunia slammed into the Beowulf’s torso, her momentum stopping the Grimm and carrying it backwards into the brush. Petunia roared, her Aura pulsing as her powerful claws rapidly and repeatedly slashed into her quarry. The Beowulf struggled to free itself, bringing one enormous claw back for a lethal swipe. Its claw shuddered and faltered, however, as Petunia snarled and brought her head down on its neck, tearing out an enormous chunk with a powerful bite. The Grimm dissipated into smoke, and Janmu heaved a sigh of relief.

He reached his hand out to the log to pull himself up, but found he was trembling too much to gain sufficient purchase, and slipped back into the mud.

_Petunia. I need you._

Petunia turned and seemed to see Janmu for the first time, her ears perking up in concern. “ _Tooruru?”_ she warbled as she bounded over. Janmu reached out and took hold of her fur, and pulled himself up from the earthy muck. Janmu embraced Petunia, burying himself in her fur. For a brief moment, her steaming warmth overpowered the damp cold that was seeping into his bones.

“Thank you, Petunia,” he mumbled into her fur. He felt a soft rumble of acknowledgement from within her chest, but her head remained aloft and alert, her ears pricking at the sounds of Raven’s combat. “You’re right,” Janmu sighed. “We should see if Raven needs help.”

Janmu looked around. He was useless in a fight in general, but he was damned if he was just going to be bait for another Beowolf. There. A narrow gully lay between them and Raven, and a long-dead pine jutted out from the near side. Janmu picked his way through the brush, with Petunia close behind. The snag had long ago lost its needles and many of the smaller branches, leaving a single smooth spire poking into the forest canopy. Janmu gave it an experimental kick. The pine lurched forward--its roots had long ago decayed, and it remained standing only for lack of a reason to fall. Janmu braced his hands against the rain-slicked wood and pushed. The tree groaned and began to tip forward into the gully, the remaining roots of the stump straining against the soil. Janmu looked back at Petunia, and she lumbered forward and pressed a heavy paw against the trunk of the tree as well.

The stump burst from the ground in a shower of mud, and the snag crashed into the underbrush. Janmu leapt into the gully, sliding through the low bushes toward the tip of the fallen tree, and came to a stop against a large rock jutting out of the eroded gully wall. The tree narrowed to the width of his arm about half a meter below the tip, and it was here that he braced his foot. He pulled on the old tree’s trunk and tried to place as much weight as possible on his foot. With a slow splinter, the wood broke, and he held his prize in his hands. His wooden club was an inelegant weapon, but it had some heft, and it would do.

Janmu looked up at Petunia, who had remained at the lip of the gully. “Okay, Petunia,” he said. “Let’s go save the day.”

Janmu turned and scrambled up the opposite bank of the gully, makeshift club in hand, then looked back to the tateru and beckoned for her. She leaned over the precipice, evaluating her options, then backed up several steps. Petunia dropped to all fours and, with a running start, leapt into the air over the gully. She landed with a crash just below Janmu, sending showers of dirt and stones cascading into the gully bottom as she fought her way up to the top. As she crested the top and heaved herself onto flat ground, Janmu reached out and patted her wet flank.

“Nicely done, Petunia,” he said. She snuffled appreciatively, still panting from her scramble. Janmu waited for her to regain her breath, then set off towards Raven, pushing through brambles and shrubs. Janmu could hear the fight ahead--the snarls of Grimm, Raven’s grunts, the muffled thumps of bodies hitting trees and the ground and the hiss as they dissipated into nothingness. It seemed Raven had things mostly under control. Janmu reflected on his current predicament. He was far from home, alone in the wilderness with a crazy woman whom he suspected might still kill him, and yet here he was tramping through a forest in the cold rain to help her fight off a truly ridiculous number of Grimm armed with a piece of wood. At this point he couldn’t tell if the chill he felt was due to his wet clothes and the cold air, or the knowledge that for unfathomable reasons he was walking toward certain death.

Janmu pushed past a stand of dogwood, and there Raven was, facing off against five Beowolves in a small hollow between the trees. The Beowolf on her left flank lunged at her, and in a blur she was gone, the Grimm landing heavily on bare ground. Raven rebounded off the trunk of the tree behind her and launched herself at the Grimm. She unsheathed her sword and in a red flash the Beowolf’s head was cleft from its shoulders. The other four Beowolves used the burst of action as their opportunity, and all pounced on Raven at once, burying her in a pile of growling and struggling Grimm.

“Petunia, _charge!_ ” Janmu said. Petunia stamped her feet and charged into the writhing mass of struggling Grimm, sending howling Beowolves flying.

“I had it under control!” Raven snapped at Janmu, cleaving a Bewolf in two as she spoke.

“Yeah okay,” Janmu replied. There was a rustling sound to his right, and he turned to see another Beowolf looming out of the bushes beside him. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, and with a sharp jab drove the pointy end of his branch into the Grimm’s chest. As the beast turned to smoke, he turned his attention back to the hollow, where Petunia had just pulverized a Beowolf against an exposed tree root, and Raven had driven her sword through the throat of the last remaining Grimm.

“Way to go, Petunia!” Janmu cheered.

“Sure, the rodent gets praise,” Raven muttered, then sharply flicked her attention up at the edge of the hollow beyond Petunia. More Beowolves poured past the trees into the hollow, more than Janmu could count. “Fuck!” she shouted. She sprinted toward Petunia, who looked up in alarm at the oncoming onslaught of snarling, snapping Grimm. Raven planted a hand on Petunia’s flank and deftly somersaulted over her back, drawing her blade and plunging into the Beowolves in a furious, whirling ball of deadly metal and Dust.

“ _Petunia!_ ” Janmu shouted, his pride replaced by fear. Petunia reared up on her hind legs and roared, taking powerful swipes at the Beowolves that made it past Raven and attempted to bite at her haunches. His heart hammering once again at a hectic pace, Janmu sprinted into the hollow, branch raised.

Janmu screamed as he charged into battle, and brought the heavy end of his branch down onto the head of a Beowolf threatening to swipe at Petunia’s exposed flank. Its head thunked into the ground, and Petunia brought a sharp claw down against the back of its neck. Janmu stepped forward through the rising mist of dissipating Grimm, and swung the club up into the jaw of a lunging Beowolf.

“YAHHHHH!” he screamed as he flipped the branch and plunged its sharp end into its neck, then turned and stabbed it into the side of a Grimm that managed to pin Petunia. Janmu looked wildly around the clearing for his next target, his chest heaving and his blood pounding. There, across the hollow, three Grimm that had noticed him and Petunia and were beginning to advance. Ignoring the rain blurring his vision, Janmu let out a guttural roar, and charged across the hollow to meet his prey.

He swung the club into the shoulder of the closest Beowolf, noticing too late the bony plates protecting its hide. The club bounced off harmlessly, and Janmu stopped in his tracks, the blood draining from his face as he looked up into the glowing red eyes of the Beowolf now looming over him. The enormous beast drew its claw back and swung at Janmu. Pain bloomed across his ribs as the blow threw him across the clearing, and a sharp jolt shot through his collarbone as he slammed into the dirt, his Aura flickering unevenly. Across the clearing, the other two Beowolves had cornered Petunia against the base of a tree. They snapped and snarled wildly against her flailing claws as she desperately tried to hold them back, letting out anguished squeals.

“Petunia…” Janmu cried. He looked up at a splintering sound behind him. An Ursa stepped out of the underbrush on its hind legs, one massive black paw braced on a tree branch that had begun to break away from the trunk.

Despair and dread washed over him. They would die here, he was sure. There was nothing he could do to save Petunia, and he was too weak to defend himself. The Ursa looked down and saw him, and knelt down to inspect him. Janmu closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath, feeling hot tears mix with the cold rain on his cheekbones.

“ _Hey!_ ” Janmu heard Raven shout. He felt a burst of air as something flew past his face, and he opened his eyes. The red Dust blade of Raven’s sword hung in the air next to him. When he turned his head to follow the blade, he saw it was buried in the head of the Ursa, mere inches from his face. He turned back and saw Raven running toward him in a dead sprint.

She pulled the blade from the dissipating Grimm and immediately hurled it across the hollow, where it buried itself in the flank of a Beowolf that had managed to flip Petunia onto her back.

“Cut it out,” Raven snapped at Janmu. “You’re going to attract more of them.”

Janmu sniffled and took a gulping breath. “What do we do?”

“We fight and we survive!” Raven yelled back as she darted across the clearing to Petunia and retrieved her sword then in one fluid motion, pivoted and neatly bisected a lunging Beowolf.

Janmu shakily got to his feet, bracing himself against the tree behind him. He looked around himself, and found his pine club lying several meters away. He limped over and picked it up, then trudged back to the center of the hollow, where Raven stood at the ready, her sword waiting for its next victim. Petunia lumbered over, and Janmu was relieved to note that she did not appear seriously injured.

They stood there waiting, panting, sword and branch ready, for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, Raven whipped her head around, peering into the forest to their left.

“Janmu, can you ride Petunia?” she asked, a suddenly urgent tone in her voice.

“I… yes?” he responded.

“We need to get out of this hollow. They’re coming from every direction,” Raven said. “Gods, why are there so many?” she muttered to herself. “Did you see anything that might lead us to some natural cover, or more open space at least?”

“I… I don’t know, I mean I saw an old stream bed, you know like a small ravine?” he said. He wiped the matted hair out of his eyes and pointed back the way he and Petunia had come. “Back that way.”

“Perfect. Streams go somewhere. Take Petunia and run.”

“Raven, are you sure running is the best idea? They’ll catch us and kill us!” Janmu protested.

Raven’s head whipped back around to Janmu. She glared, her bright red eyes boring holes into Janmu even through the shaggy black hair plastered to her face. “I swear, I will kill you,” she growled.

“I _knew it_ ,” Janmu swore, and grabbing a fistful of Petunia’s fur, climbed onto her back. “What about you?” he asked, clutching his wooden club to his chest.

“I can keep up,” she said. “I’ll buy you some time, now _go!_ ”

Janmu needed no further urging, and spurred Petunia up the side of the hollow and into the bushes. She loped through the brush, weaving around the larger shrubs and bowling over the smaller clumps. Soon enough they arrived back at the gully, and Janmu urged Petunia carefully over the edge. The rain had saturated the soil further since they had left, and the banks of the gully had grown muddy and unstable, slowing Petunia down as she searched for safe footholds. She made it nearly halfway down to the bottom before she slipped and slid, showering Janmu with wet mud as she plowed towards the bottom. She regained her footing as they reached the rocks of the streambed, and they were off.

Petunia raced down the gully, dodging past small bushes and pines that had taken root, and leaping over the boulders that had occasionally piled at the bottom of the ravine. As they fled, Janmu looked up at the gully walls. There, through the trees, he saw flashes of movement and dark blurs. He looked behind them, and though he could only see a short distance due to the gentle curve of the streambed, it didn’t look like any Grimm had pursued them into the ravine. He looked back up to the gully walls, and now he could definitely see the shadows of Beowolves weaving in and out of the trees at the edges of the ravine. A red flash shot out of the tree canopy, and he caught several metallic gleams as Grimm howled and disappeared in puffs of smoke.

Janmu hugged closer to Petunia. _Faster, Petunia, faster,_ he thought, trying desperately to keep his thoughts from the slippery slide into despair. Loose rocks and clods of mud showered onto them as more Grimm raced alongside the crumbling edges of the gully. A short distance ahead of them, part of the bank gave way entirely and a Beowolf tumbled over the edge, throwing up a spray of mud and pebbles as it rolled toward the bottom. It righted itself against a rotted log and shook itself as Janmu and Petunia approached, then began bounding towards them. It leapt into the air as they closed the distance, its jaws wide open and ready to bite. Janmu braced his thighs against Petunia and lunged forward, plunging his weapon into the Grimm’s open mouth. He braced himself as they made contact, allowing their momentum to knock the Beowolf back, driving his branch deeper into its gullet and out the back of its throat. The Beowolf flipped over onto its back as they passed, disappearing into smoke as it hit the ground, freeing Janmu’s arm and his branch.

Janmu rubbed his arm where it had entered the Grimm’s throat. He had felt its teeth graze against his skin, and the thought of how close he had come to losing his arm sent chills through his spine. He shuddered and buried himself once more in Petunia’s fur as she continued her mad charge through the ravine.

The gully turned sharply around a large boulder, and Janmu flattened himself against Petunia as she dove under a tree that had fallen across the streambed just beyond the bend. As Petunia tore across the next twist in the old streambed’s course, Janmu heard a scrabbling sound behind them. Five enormous Sabyrs had cleared the fallen tree and were bearing down on them, a frenzied, roiling, black mass of bony plates, teeth, and glowing red eyes.

“ _Oh, shit,”_ Janmu swore under his breath. “Petunia, I love you, but if you can go even a little faster, our lives depend on it,” he told her. In response, he felt the muscles rippling beneath her skin bunch up. Petunia put on a burst of speed, her paws pounding against the ground in a desperate staccato. He glanced behind once more. The Sabyrs were still gaining, albeit not as quickly. A flurry of movement caught his eye--a black bird flying through the gully ahead of the Sabyrs. He couldn’t quite make it out--perhaps a crow or a raven, probably startled by the Sabyrs and trying to make its own escape.

As he watched the bird, a Sabyr launched itself off of a log, putting on enough speed to close the gap. Janmu’s heart seized in his chest, and he swung his club in a panic at the oncoming Grimm. The wood connected with the Sabyr’s mouth and succeeded in knocking it off its course, but the blow jarred the branch out of Janmu’s hand, and it clattered into the rivulets of rainwater that were gathering in the gully. Janmu watched his only weapon fall away from him in horror. His eyes snapped back up to the Sabyrs, who continued to slowly close the distance. The Sabyr he had hit had fallen behind, but picked itself up and began to rejoin its pack.

Janmu turned his attention back to the gully ahead. The walls flashed past as they fled, mud-falls and the clatter of tumbling stones from the Grimm above now a constant backdrop to the raindrops pattering on his face as they ran. Behind him, he could hear the huffs and snarls of the Sabyrs as they jostled for position, now only inches behind Petunia. Janmu felt the walls of the ravine closing in, and the chill of the rain and their defeat seeped ever deeper into his bones. Though the sun had not yet set, the gloom of the forest seemed to deepen as the Grimm closed in. Janmu closed his eyes and buried his face in Petunia’s fur, focusing on the rhythmic contractions of her muscles as she flew across the ground and the rapid tempo of her heartbeat as she did her best to carry them to safety.

Petunia was a good girl. She had been his companion when he was alone in Mantle. She was his best friend. She was his protector. And he was hers. And they would die here in this forest. At least they would die together.

A frigid wave of muddy water coursed over Janmu, jolting him back to the present. He opened his eyes in time to see the wall of reeds rushing towards them as Petunia charged through open water. An instant later, he was bombarbed by cattails and whipped relentlessly by slender, wet grasses. Petunia seemed to pay no mind as she charged onwards in her blind panic. Janmu wiped grass seeds and bits of cattail out of his eyes and turned to look behind them. The Sabyrs were nowhere to be seen.

Janmu leaned forward and patted Petunia’s flank. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “It’s okay. You did it. You did it, Petunia,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he felt fresh tears rolling down his face. “You fucking did it.”

He gingerly dismounted as she came to a halt and collapsed into the reeds. He knelt next to her and draped his arms around her neck. “Thank you, Petunia,” he murmured.

Remembering Raven, he climbed to his feet and pushed through the reeds, splashing through the ankle-deep water. He came to a mound of matted grasses that rose up out of the water, and from his new vantage point surveyed their surroundings. The gully Petunia had led them through had apparently emptied into a large marsh. Janmu looked to the tree line. Raven was a small red blur, flashing from Grimm to Grimm, taking advantage of the safety of the open marsh behind her to cut through them like ribbons. The Sabyrs were nowhere to be seen--Janmu had to assume she had already taken care of them.

Finally, no Grimm remained of the onslaught that had pursued them through the forest. Raven stumbled through the marsh water towards Janmu, her sword dangling loosely from her hand. The sword fell from her hand into the water as she reached Janmu, and she slumped forward. Janmu rushed forward and caught her in his arms, allowing her to collapse into his shoulders. He helped her toward the dry mound he had found, then went back and retrieved her blade.

Raven sat slumped on the mound of reeds, breathing heavily, staring blankly into the water, her soaking wet hair hanging in front of her eyes. Janmu sat heavily next to her, and draped an arm around her shoulders.

“I swear I will kill you,” she said in a small voice.

Janmu gingerly removed his arm. He looked up at the tree line. He could see movement in the trees--a few Ursa and several Beowolves that had lagged behind the rest of the pack prowled through the trees. They seemed unwilling to enter the marsh, however.

“Those Grimm…” he said. “Why aren’t they coming after us? What about this marsh scares a Grimm?”

“Who knows,” Raven muttered. She sighed. “Right now we need to find shelter. Someplace to build a fire and dry ourselves out. Help me up.”

Janmu offered his hand. Raven took it, and he helped her to her feet. They waded through the marsh to where Janmu had left Petunia. He saw with relief that she was sitting up, and munching happily on cattails, adding to a growing pile of denuded bulrushes beside her.

“ _Tootootoo?”_ Petunia inquired through a mouthful of brown fluff.

“Yeah, Petunia,” Janmu said. “We’re safe now. Thanks to you,” he said with a smile, patting her flank. Petunia snuffled appreciatively, then returned to her snack.

Janmu and Raven waded further into the marsh, eventually coming to a strip of exposed land, the consequence of a years-long pileup of slowly-decaying grasses. From here, looking across the expanse of the marsh, they spotted a small copse of trees, perhaps a few hundred meters away.

“There,” Raven said. “Where there are trees, there’s shelter.” She began trudging ahead, while Janmu wondered how she could believe that given their experience in the trees no more than half an hour ago. She seemed determined, however, so he called for Petunia.

Raven was right about the trees. The cluster of trees was small, just four large oaks that had built themselves a small knoll of tree roots and soil. A fifth oak however had fallen, creating a small cave beneath its exposed root mass, nestled among the roots of the other trees.

“Start looking for wood,” Raven said. “Where there are trees, there are branches. I’ll gather grasses for kindling.”

An hour later, Raven had managed to start a fire. Janmu still didn’t understand how she could summon fire even in the rain--she had muttered something about her semblance when he had asked the first time she did it, but Janmu had never heard of semblances that produced fire like that. But as he reclined against Petunia, he was glad to have the warmth, no matter its source. Raven sat propped up against a tree root, weaving grasses together while her boots dried near the fire. When he had asked, she had pointed to the myriad scratches he had, the numerous tears in his uniform, and the dried blood caked on his skin and clothing.

“You’re going to need more protection than that stupid uniform,” she had said. “This isn’t much, but it’ll be something. It’ll be a damn sight tougher than what those military idiots gave you. We may be safe for now, but those won’t have been the last Grimm we’ll encounter. Don’t think it’s just for you, though,” she had continued, shooting him a warning look. “I’m weaving something for myself too. You may be used to it up here, but I’ll get cold without something more.”

Janmu had offered to take the first watch, but now, snuggled up against Petunia’s warm, soft fur, he was glad that Raven had insisted. The day’s events had caught up to him, and a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, here in the warmth and safety of their little burrow. As his eyelids slid shut and he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard Raven quietly humming snatches of a tune.

~~~

Raven jerked upright at the sound of a dry reed breaking. She must have nodded off--her grass weaving was still in her hands. She peered out into the darkness, looking for the source of the sound. The rain had stopped, giving way to a thin fog that hugged the bulrushes. She could see glimpses of stars through the mist. The night air was still and quiet, and Raven began to think that perhaps the sound had just carried over the marsh.

Then--another sound, this time definitely a footstep. And then another. Raven carefully and quietly transferred her weaving from her lap to the ground next to her. She slowly rose to a crouch and sidled closer to the burrow’s entrance, straining to see or hear the intruder. Something rustled in the reeds at the edge of the knoll, and Raven’s hand slowly went to the hilt of her sword.

A figure emerged from the darkness, its silhouette looming tall in the fog. It did not appear to have any arms, and large protrusions emerged from either side of its head. As it stepped out of the fog, Raven saw it was a large deer of some kind, with broad, bulbous antlers. It approached the knoll with heavy hoofsteps and turned to look in Raven’s direction. Her hand tightened around her sword’s hilt, and she tensed in anticipation. 

The creature softly lowered a hoof onto an exposed tree root, and a green light pulsed from its hoof and rippled out across the ground. Raven instinctively tried to draw her sword, but before she could get the blade out of its sheath, roots burst from the ground and twined around her limbs, immobilizing her. The deer creature stepped forward and lowered its head, its nose inches from Raven’s, the dim firelight flickering in its golden eyes. From this distance, she could see that its fur seemed odd--less like fur, and more like a layer of very small leaves. It huffed, ice crystals condensing and hanging in the air in front of its nostrils, and Raven could smell half-chewed grass on its frigid breath. 

Raven strained against the roots to draw her sword and free herself. With a snap, one of the roots restraining her right arm broke, and then another, and then her arm was free. The creature snorted, and fresh vines shot from the ground and wrapped themselves around the sword and its hilt. Raven narrowed her eyes, and summoned a small ball of flame in her free hand.

“Hey, hey, hey!” hissed Janmu, propping himself up on one arm. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she hissed in return. 

“Raven, that’s a cerneaf,” Janmu said in a rush, “if it wanted you dead you’d already be dead.”

“What?” she asked.

“The name translates to ‘guardian’. They protect entire forests. We must be in this one’s den. Put the fire away,” Janmu pleaded. 

Raven extinguished the fireball. The cerneaf sniffed her hair, the small ears beneath its bulbous antlers flicking back and forth. 

“What do I do?” she asked. “It did something and now I can’t move!”

Janmu looked thoughtful. “Something’s not right here,” he said.

“You think?” Raven replied. “It has me tied up!”

“No, cerneaf have herds. They don’t just protect forests because they like trees; they do it because their herds live there. But we didn’t see any other temtem of its species. If there’s a cerneaf here… where are the other temtem?” 

Janmu seemed to be losing himself in his thoughts. Unbelievable, Raven thought. The cerneaf took a few steps toward the fire and nibbled thoughtfully on one of Raven’s boots. 

“Hey! A little help here! Unless you have a better idea, I’m doing it my way!” she said.

“Okay, okay, uh, here,” Janmu said, fumbling for one of his pockets. He pulled out a slim, crystalline card and tossed it to Raven.

Raven looked at the card, then at Janmu. “I thought you didn’t want me to hurt it,” she said.

“What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to weaken them first?”

“What? Where did you--nevermind. No,” Janmu said, shaking his head. “No, you can, if you’re stupid and don’t want your temtem to love you. What you need to do is get it to trust you.”

Raven looked at Janmu, flatly unimpressed. “You’re joking.”

Janmu stuck his chin out. “I’m not! Raven, be nice to the cerneaf.”

Raven sighed, and reluctantly stopped struggling against the roots. The cerneaf turned its attention back to her, its golden eyes locking with hers. She allowed herself to sink down to the ground, and the roots loosened.

“Okay,” she said softly to the cerneaf. “I’m not going to hurt you. Janmu says I can’t. So I’m going to put the sword away.” She undid the buckle on her scabbard, then reached over with her free hand and gently lifted it away from her waist. The cerneaf’s eyes flicked down to the weapon, its ears twitching. As she pulled, the roots gave way, and she gingerly placed the sword and its scabbard on the ground.

“Okay,” she breathed. 

“Okay,” Janmu said. “Reach out with your Aura.”

Raven closed her eyes and focused on her Aura, then reached out to sense her surroundings. There was Janmu, and Petunia, familiar shapes in her mind’s eye. And then in front of her, the cerneaf’s Aura. Raven reached out with her mind and took in the shape of the Aura--not menacing, but powerful. Old, like an ancient oak. Her eyes still closed, Raven heard the cerneaf kneel in front of her, and felt its hot breath on her face. Raven pushed further with her Aura--she could feel the cerneaf’s heartbeat now, sense the rhythm of its breath. 

In the back of her mind, Raven felt a tickle, as if her Aura were responding to an intrusion. She returned her focus to her own Aura, and felt tiny tendrils snaking through her Aura, like a memory of the roots that bound her to the den’s floor. The tendrils flared, and Raven gasped and opened her eyes.

The cerneaf’s eyes filled her vision, two shimmering golden orbs flickering in the firelight. Raven felt herself unable to look away, staring into the depths of the enormous eyes as they stared into hers. Raven breathed deeply, and felt through her Aura that the cerneaf had drawn breath in time with her own. She exhaled, and it exhaled. Raven noticed then that the remaining roots holding her down had loosened.

Raven reached out a hand, and gently held the cerneaf’s head. She felt the tendrils in her Aura thicken, and her heart began to race.  _ No, Raven,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Trust. _ The searching tendrils probed, and then before she could stop them, they plunged, racing through her soul, searching out her emotions, her power--and then they found it. Raven felt the Maiden-power rise unbidden, surging through its familiar channels, washing over the tendrils. Her eyes widened as she stared into the cerneaf’s eyes, its golden, baleful irises a pair of burning suns searing through her. 

As the power rose and the Maiden-flames bloomed from her eyes, Raven felt herself slip away as the cerneaf’s tendrils tightened their grip on her Aura.

_ Raven swung her leg from the tree branch, smirking down at Qrow. Golden light filtered through the leaves above her, which rustled gently in the autumn air. _

_ “Raven, come on,” he said. “We have to go back! Mom and dad said to be home by sundown.” _

_ “I belong to the trees, now,” she said. “And I want to see the sunset. You go home, brother, if you’re so scared.” _

_ Qrow stamped his foot in frustration. Raven climbed to her feet, steadied herself against the rough bark of the tree’s trunk, lifted her foot, and stepped gingerly onto the next branch. _

_ Raven stepped gingerly into the water at the edge of the clearing, lowering her head to lap up the clear water. Bright green yearling sprioles bounded through the bulrush sprouts that had just broken the water’s surface the night before, while the rest of the herd grazed on the saplings at the forest’s edge. A warm breeze filtered through the first leaves of spring, a pleasant rustle. Raven lifted her head high, letting the warm sun wash over her young antlers, feeling its rejuvenating power. Off to her left, she could see the tall cerneaf on a grassy hillock jutting out in the water, standing guard over the other deendres and the young sprioles. Content, she lowered her head and looked into the water. _

_ Raven looked into the bundle in her arms, and baby Yang looked up at her. Such a small thing. So trusting. A wave of emotion flooded Raven. This child was hers. All that she was, contained in this child. And yet, also… all that Tai was. What would this child be? Could she be sure she would grow to be strong? To be confident? Smart? Fear and anxiety roiled in Raven, and were overtaken by a dark, consuming question.  _

_ Could she herself be strong, confident, and powerful with this child? What if it demanded too much? What if she was too busy being a mother to see the threat of Salem coming, and then it was too late? _

_ How could she be a mother, when Salem threatened her family and her tribe?  _

_ Yang’s grasping hands closed around her finger, and Raven turned her head. _

_ She turned her head at the sound of frantic hooves. The other deendres, fleeing through the trees, their eyes wide, full of fear. The same fear gripped her. She had to run. To flee. She bolted through the undergrowth, her hooves seeking out the familiar paths. Behind, the sound of predators, the horrible gnashing, snarling, killing. Where was the cerneaf? Why was this happening? _

_ She leapt over a stream, and heard a squeal. She skittered to a halt. Those were the sounds of sprioles. She darted back to the stream, looking wildly for the source of the sound. There. In a hollow the stream had carved beneath the roots of a tree, three young sprioles cowering against the bank. Raven looked back in the direction of the threat, then at the sprioles. She would only be able to carry one in her mouth. Could she run fast enough with such precious cargo? A splintering sound filled the air as a tree crashed to the forest floor, and the fear overcame her. She bolted. _

_ Sharp fear overcame her, and she launched forward, her hand flying to her sword. But she couldn’t move--ice had encased her feet and glued her in place. Cinder turned and smirked, more and more ice continuing to stream from her outstretched human hand, locking Raven in a cold, impenetrable shell. She was helpless. Cinder’s horrible Grimm arm pinned Vernal against the Vault, and Vernal screamed in agony. Her blue eyes wide in fear, Vernal scrabbled helplessly at the claws digging into her chest as her life-force drained away. Raven cursed and screamed in her head as she struggled to break free of the clear ice that had encased her. Vernal looked desperately at Raven over Cinder’s shoulder, her steel-blue eyes pleading for help. Vernal fell, and Raven burst through her prison. _

_ Raven burst through the trees into the marsh and charged into the rushes, a single, consuming purpose propelling her hooves through the icy waters. Behind her, the bleats and squeals of the herd as they fell, and the distant sound of cackling laughter carried over the marsh. She had to find the cerneaf. He would help. There, ahead. A small rise, and a stand of oak saplings that had sprouted around their fallen parent. There was a small hollow beneath its roots. He had to be there. Raven climbed out of the water onto the muddy rise and approached.  _

_ She was too late. The cerneaf lay on his side beneath the roots, injured, a large purple gash in his side. Raven could see the poison spreading through his flank, the bulging veins turning dark with each slow heartbeat. No, Raven though, as her last hope drained away. She knelt next to the guardian’s large head, closed her eyes, and nuzzled him. He huffed, and gave an injured wheeze, but did not move. Raven raised her head, and cried in despair. She turned back to the dying cerneaf and rested her head against his. Slowly, his large eyelid slid open. _

Raven looked into the eyes of the cerneaf as the tears streamed down her face, and steel-blue eyes looked back at her--and then were gone, and she was once again looking at the Cerneaf’s golden eyes, the soft red light of the flames dancing softly in her pupils. Raven felt herself crumble, and she sank to the floor of the den. The cerneaf grunted, and lowered her head into Raven’s lap. She convulsed with sobs, and placed a shaking hand on the cerneaf’s large head. 

“Raven…” Janmu said quietly. “What happened?”

Raven looked over at Janmu--she had forgotten he was there. He had risen into a crouch, and wore a look of confusion, fear, and concern. His eyes glanced away from her to the walls of the hollow. She followed his glance, and saw that a carpet of clover had sprouted across the floor and walls, and thin green vines hung from the ancient tree roots overhead. The roots and vines that had restrained her had sprouted small, white flowers.

Raven drew an uneasy breath, and as she pressed the tab on the side of the crystalline card she held in her hand, a flash of white light filled the den.

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.  
---|---  
| 

### Spriole

I. Just cannot. These are so fucking cute. They're called sprioles, and they're little bundles of cuteness. They're the size of a grapefruit, _incredibly_ fluffy, and very playful. These are the juvenile form of the deendre. They're found in large deendre herds, and while they're _very cute_ , I have to say that picking them up to play with them _will_ get you in trouble. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  
| 

### Deendre

This is a deendre. About a metre at the shoulder, leaf-like antlers, relatively harmless. Found in large herds; very social animals. Herbivores. This is the adult form that sprioles grow into. They're also almost always accompanies by a single cerneaf (see next entry). Be cautious when approaching; deendres are reasonably timid and mild, but cerneafs are no joke. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  
| 

### Cerneaf

This big fella is a cerneaf. It stands about two metres at the shoulder. Giant leaf-like antlers. They seem to spend a lot of time sunbathing. I've only ever seen one at a time; they always accompany a giant herd of deendres and sprioles. If I had to guess, I'd say a deendre develops into a cerneaf when it becomes the leader of the herd. The name "cerneaf" means "guardian". and I have to say, it lives up to the name. Scary, scary things. Do not approach. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.


	8. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover and Winter talk about feelings, and then Clover has a heart-to-heart with Ren. Raven and Janmu unpack what just happened with the cerneaf, and have a serious chat about her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) provided really great feedback and suggestions for this chapter. Thanks you two!
> 
> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is included at the end of the chapter as a visual reference.

Clover breathed in the night air. The air was crisp and clear, with a hint of snow. Clover thought back to his sparring match with Qrow earlier that day--when Qrow had pinned him against the floor, his nose hanging inches from Clover’s, and Clover had lost himself in Qrow’s scent, an earthy and crisp aroma of mountain air--much like the air that now filled his lungs. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets, looked up at the stars twinkling through thin clouds, and exhaled. He had been unable to focus ever since their sparring match earlier in the day--he would try to concentrate on the paperwork he was filling out, or the duty rosters he was organizing, and inevitably find his mind wandering to the fluid way Qrow had moved, or the way Harbinger had seemed a literal extension of Qrow’s body. Or the sharp thrill he had felt when Qrow had pinned him to the floor of the training room.

“You’re up late.” Clover turned. Winter was standing at the entrance to the terrace, hands clasped behind her back. He turned back, and looked down at the bed of flowers in front of him.

“Good evening, Winter,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come out here to get some air. Clear my head.” 

“I couldn’t sleep either,” she said, joining him in front of the flowers. They stood there in silence, each taking in the night air. Finally, Winter sighed. “I’m worried about Weiss,” she said.

Clover turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at her. “Weiss?” he asked. “From what I’ve seen, she’s quite capable--as capable as you were at her age. She’ll do just fine.”

Winter looked away from Clover. “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s… it’s the Winter Maiden. I’m worried about what it will do to Weiss, when I’ve become the Winter Maiden, and when the fight comes to Atlas.” She picked at a bit of grass growing between the flagstones with the toe of her boot. “I know Weiss is capable. But she’s been through a lot.”

Clover didn’t know how to respond. His own sister was apprenticing at a bakery not far from the Academy. He worried for her safety if things ever got bad, but she was well-insulated from the dangers he dealt with. He understood feeling protective, though--that was why when he visited her bakery to check on her and enjoy complimentary eclairs, he tried to keep the conversation on her life--her schooling, her friends, the petty struggles of a normal life in Atlas. He couldn’t let her see the stresses he carried from his job. 

Clover opened his mouth to tell Winter all this, but she spoke first. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to involve you in my personal troubles. But since I did, and you’re out here also unable to sleep, it’s only fair I listen to yours. Was it anything you wanted to talk about?” she said, turning to look at him.

“Oh, uh…” he said. “I don’t know.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. How could he describe emotions he didn’t understand?

Clover sighed. “Winter…” he began. “Have you ever met someone who seemed to… I don’t know… you try to go about your day and do your duty, but then you pause and they’re there, in your thoughts?”

“Yes,” Winter said, looking out over the city, her jaw set. “I do know what that’s like. I worry about Weiss, like I said. But I also think about my father. And my mother. I try to do that less these days, though Father isn’t making it easy.”

Clover shook his head. “No, not like that. In a good way. You can’t help but think of them, and you like thinking about them. Even though you can’t help it, and it gets in the way.”

Winter turned to face Clover, a look of confusion on her face. “No,” she said. “I can’t say I have.” Her look of confusion faded as realization dawned on her. “Wait,” she said. “You have feelings for someone.”

Clover’s ears felt hot. “I suppose that’s a possibility,” he conceded. “It’s just a little unexpected. And inconvenient.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame you,” Winter smirked. “If it’s who I think it is, anyone can see the chemistry. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

The flush rose further, and Clover felt a small knot in his chest. Was it really that obvious? How could everyone else already know what he was only just realizing?

“I suppose we do have a certain camaraderie,” he said. “But do you really think it’s that obvious? You know I do my best to maintain a professional attitude. I wouldn’t want this to jeopardize that.”

Winter chuckled. “It’s been obvious the whole time, Clover, “ she said. Clover wondered what she meant by that--it had only been a few weeks that Qrow and the kids had trained with the Ace-Ops. Was it simply obvious from the onset that he and Qrow were a good match? Their semblances certainly were a lucky pairing--perhaps there was something beyond luck to that.

“So what do you think I should do?” he asked. “I confess this is a new experience for me. I’ve had dates here and there, but never someone I’ve worked with. The Ace-Ops are a well-oiled machine, and introducing a dynamic like this could jeopardize our effectiveness.”

Winter bent over and picked a small flower. She twirled it in her fingers as she straightened up. “As captain of the team, you’re in a better position than I am to assess how pursuing your feelings would affect the dynamic. But personally, I think the other Ace-Ops have suspected this for a while. You two certainly already work very well together; I don’t see why being honest with Elm about your feelings would change that.”

Clover stared at Winter, his eyes wide. Elm? The realization of what Winter was saying hit him in a wave, and he doubled over in laughter.

“Elm?” he said between laughs, looking up at Winter’s very confused expression. “No, Elm and I are… it’s not Elm. Elm and I go way back, and yes, we do work well together. But she is my subordinate, and I work well with all of my team, because we train to be as effective as possible. That means getting along and working well together.”

Winter frowned. “If it’s not Elm,” she huffed, “then who is it?”

The knot in Clover’s chest turned into a wave of anxiety that seized him in an icy grip. It had felt good to talk about his feelings with Winter when it seemed like she already knew, and approved. But if she didn’t know… he would have to acknowledge his feelings out loud again, only this time facing an uncertain reception .

“Will you keep quiet about it if I tell you?” he asked. “I may have a crush, and I may be having a hard time focusing on it, but I’m not a schoolboy, and my team does need to remain effective. We have a mission to carry out,” he reminded her.

Winter gave a single nod. “You have my word that this will remain between us. It’s not strictly appropriate for us to be talking about our feelings at all. But here we are--neither of us able to sleep, and both unloading our emotions on each other. So you might as well tell me.”

Clover nodded. He took a deep breath. “I… can’t stop thinking about Qrow Branwen.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed. “Qrow?” she asked. She looked at Clover silently, her eyes searching his face. She sighed, and tossed aside the flower. “I get it. You don’t want to tell me, and that’s fine. If you have a crush on someone we work with, it would be inappropriate for you to confide their identity to me.”

Clover frowned. “Winter, we’ve known each other for a long time,” he said. “Like I said, my team and I get along fine, but they’re my coworkers and subordinates--not my friends. But you’re more like an equal. I know that we both have to follow orders and do our jobs, and that limits the extent to which we can truly have friends within the military--but I’d like to believe that if anyone is a friend I can talk to, it’s you.”

“What are you saying?” Winter asked, crossing her arms. 

“I’m saying that I’m finding that I can’t get Qrow out of my mind, and I don’t know what to do about it,” Clover responded, placing his hands firmly on his hips. “And if you have any advice to offer, I could use some help.”

Winter pursed her lips. “You really like Qrow?”

Clover shrugged. “I think I do! You know, he’s nice, has a sense of humor. He’s dedicated to protecting people--the way you and I are, the way General Ironwood is. I admire the way he cares about the kids, and the influence he’s had on them. And,” Clover said, giving an involuntary half-smile, “he’s incredible in a fight. I mean, have you seen the way he moves?”

“I have,” Winter replied, flatly. “From the wrong end of that overgrown farm tool he calls a weapon.”

Clover crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You think I should set these feelings aside,” he said.

Winter rolled her eyes. “Come on, Clover,” she said. “Be reasonable. The man’s a dangerous drunk.”

Clover’s ears grew hot. “What? Winter, I read his file just like you did; I know his history. But he’s been sober the entire time he’s been here. As for dangerous, if you mean his semblance…”

“I don’t mean his semblance!” Winter snapped, balling her hands into fists. “You know I wouldn’t say that. I mean his judgment! That idiot goes off his own, does what he wants, who knows what’s going through his head! And he thinks nothing of the Atlas military!”

“General Ironwood seems to trust him,” Clover responded coldly.

“He once destroyed several Atlesian Knights just to get my attention!”

“Years ago,” Clover said. “Like I said, I read his file. The man’s changed. You saw the kids--they’re traveled all the way here with him and arrived in good shape and as capable Hunters.”

“That man-child,” Winter growled, “is the most irresponsible, irreverent excuse for a Huntsman I’ve ever met. That my sister and her friends survived the trip here with him in tow is a testament to their ability, not his.”

Clover’s jaw clenched. “Maybe talking to you about this was a bad idea. My personal business is none of your concern.” He turned and began walking towards the door to the Academy tower. He stopped at the door and turned back. Winter stood where he had left her, watching him.

“I don’t know all of the history you have with Qrow,” he said. “But I’ll remind you that we have a mission that is more important than your grudge, and General Ironwood has trusted Qrow to be part of that mission. Now, I won’t let the way I feel about Qrow cloud my judgment or impact my team’s effectiveness. The mission comes first. I hope, Special Operative Schnee,” he said as he put a hand on the door, “that you’ll do the same.” 

~~~

Clover paced down the hall toward the residences, fuming at himself. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to talk to Winter? Qrow had warned him that they had a history. Stupid. Yes, Qrow had a past, and Clover couldn’t deny that Qrow could be irritating at times. He could come off as guarded and defensive, and sometimes seemed impervious to compliments. But that was no basis on which to give up on someone. What was Winter’s problem?

Clover was so deep in his thoughts that he nearly ran into Lie Ren as he turned the corner.

“Oh, uh, sir! I’m sorry, sir!” stammered Ren. “I didn’t see you there.”

Clover raised his hands placatingly. “It’s alright, Ren,” he said. “You can call me Clover. And it’s not your fault; I wasn’t looking where I was going. My mistake.” Clover placed a hand on his hip and stroked his chin. “You know, you’re up late. We have mission assignments first thing tomorrow.”

Ren looked down, ashamed. “Yes, sir. I know, sir. I couldn’t sleep.”

Clover reflected to himself that they were all in trouble if everyone was turning into an insomniac.

“Something on your mind, Huntsman?” he asked. 

Ren looked away. “It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “I’ve known Nora most of my life,” he blurted, the words tumbling out of him. “And she’s always been there for me, and with all we went through to get here, every time I think about what we’re facing, and the possibility of losing her…” He trailed off.

Clover placed a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Slow down, Ren. It’s okay. It’s natural to worry about your friends and hope harm doesn’t come to them.”

Ren sighed. “I know, sir. I worry about the others too. But this is different. When I think about Nora getting hurt… it’s like I can’t move.”

Clover sat against the wall, and motioned for Ren to sit next to him. 

“Nora’s pretty special to you, huh?” Clover asked.

Ren sat in silence before answering. “I met Nora when I was a boy. She was alone. Then one day our village was attacked by a Nuckelavee. I lost my father and my mother. Nora and I found each other, and kept each other safe. We were both alone… but we stuck together over the years, and kept each other safe. Nora is… she’s everything to me. If anything happened to her…” Ren looked up at Clover, his eyes damp. 

“Does Nora know how much you care about her?” Clover asked.

“We haven’t really talked about it,” Ren replied. “I think she feels the same, but I’m… I’m not very good at talking.”

Clover furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Ren looked up at the ceiling. “I… I want to tell her how much she means to me. But when I want to tell her, I start thinking about it. What does she mean to me? I care about her, and worry about her, but is that because we’ve been together so long? Is it… something else? What if I feel one way, and she feels the other? And what if that changes something?”

Clover nodded. “That is a risk. But surely it can’t hurt to just tell her you care about her. I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing that. And hey, maybe she does feel the same way you do, whatever it is you’re feeling. How will you know if you don’t talk about it?”

Ren sighed and bowed his head, his long hair hanging over his face. “I know,” he said. “But we have a mission. What if I tell her, and she doesn’t feel the same way… and that gets in the way of the mission? What if I’m the problem, and even if we don’t talk, my feelings still get in the way, and I freeze--and then because of me, we fail?”

Clover gulped, thinking of his own dilemma with Qrow. He reached over and rested his hand on Ren’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “Being a Huntsman doesn’t mean not having emotions, or not worrying about your teammates, or your partner,” he told Ren. “It means being able to deal with your emotions in a way that lets you get the job done. You kids have all been through a lot, and you earned your titles. You couldn’t have done that if you hadn’t learned to control and harness your emotions.”

Ren looked up at Clover anxiously. “So what do I do?” he asked. 

Clover sighed. “Well,” he said. “You need to work on trusting Nora. You saw her with the nessla. That girl is a force to be reckoned with. I doubt she’ll come to any harm anytime soon. No matter whether you talk to her or not, you need to be able to care about her without jeopardizing your ability to get the job done.”

Ren nodded. “The mission comes first,” he said. He rose to his feet, and Clover stood as well. Ren turned to face Clover, and said, “Thank you, Clover. I won’t let my feelings for Nora get in the way. She’s my teammate first.” He snapped to attention, and saluted Clover. 

Clover chuckled and raised his hand in a casual salute as Ren turned and walked back to his room. Ren was a good kid--he would have made an excellent Ace-Op had he been raised in Atlas.

Clover smiled as he walked toward his own room. It didn’t matter how he felt about Qrow--the mission came first. If he liked Qrow, that just meant he wouldn’t mind working with him. So what if he enjoyed their time together? For now perhaps it was best to keep things professional. Besides, he grinned as he thought about their upcoming card game, there was no reason professional teammates and coworkers couldn’t have fun together. 

~~~

“Raven,” Janmu repeated. Raven was kneeling on the floor of the den, her hands clutching the TemCard in her lap. Her face was streaked with tears, which glistened in the dim firelight. The fire had sunk low, and cast deep shadows across Raven’s features. “That was… what happened, Raven?” he asked.

Raven sat in silence for a moment, unresponsive. Then her eyes snapped to Janmu’s, and it seemed to him that the fiery rage she normally held, which had been momentarily blown out by her encounter with the cerneaf, had at least rekindled somewhat. 

“What was that?” she demanded. “You want to know what happened, how about you tell me!”

“What do you mean? I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life!” he responded. He had seen people respond with shock to making contact with a temtem’s Aura, or giggle with delight, or on one occasion involving an insect temtem, revulsion, but he had never seen anything like that. A wave of _something_ had burst forth from Raven and the cerneaf, and he had buried himself in Petunia’s fur in instinctual fear. When he had turned back around, Raven was sobbing, and clovers and vines had sprouted everywhere.

“So you didn’t know that when our Auras connected, she would look into my soul and uncover all my memories?” Raven had a dark, murderous look on her face.

Janmu’s draw dropped. “She… _what?_ Wait, okay, I’m sorry, back up just one moment. Here’s how it’s supposed to happen. You reach out with your Aura, they sense yours, you sense theirs, and they can tell that you mean no harm and that’s that. End of story--they become docile, and you can catch them. That’s how I met Petunia,” he said, gesturing to the large furry tateru sitting up nervously behind him. “What did _you_ experience?”

Raven glared at him, then said, “It wasn’t like a handshake, if that’s what you mean. It was more like… like something about her Aura was digging into mine. It felt like roots digging into me--into everything that I am. And then…” Raven looked away. “I saw memories. Painful memories. Both mine and hers--at least I think they were hers? She was smaller in the earlier memories--more like the temtem around her. They didn’t look like cerneafs.”

“Oh, those were probably deendres. That’s the normal adult form,” Janmu explained. “I think one of them develops into a cerneaf when it becomes the leader of a herd.” He furrowed his brow as Raven’s words sank in. “Wait… you said you saw her memories…” he said, trailing off. 

Janmu sat in silence, dumbfounded. He had never heard of such an intimate connection being made by a temtem. Or by anything with an Aura, for that matter. Maybe it was the cerneaf? He knew that cerneafs had a mystical reputation. He had neglected to tell Raven when he had tossed her the card that tribes who lived near deendre herds regarded their cerneaf protectors nearly as deities. But he had no idea what the basis for that reputation was. And then there was the matter of the carpet of freshly-sprouted plants blanketing the walls, ceiling, and floor of the den. That was unexpected, too.

Janmu gulped, knowing he was wading into dangerous waters. “You said you saw some of _her_ memories. Was there anything… I don’t know, anything that could help us? That might explain this marsh, and the fact that she didn’t have a herd?”

Still not looking up, Raven said, “The herd was attacked. The cerneaf thought of the attacker as a predator. But it laughed--like a man. When she found the previous cerneaf here in the marsh, near this den, it was already dying. Something had slashed it open--and left it with poisoned wounds.”

Janmu had begun reaching for the small notebook he kept in his jacket pocket, but paused when Raven mentioned that the attacker had laughed. “You think a person wiped out the herd?” he asked.

Raven nodded darkly. “The young ones too. Whoever it was, it was a game to them.”

Janmu shuddered. Who could do that? He had met his share of shady characters in his life, but none would have stooped to this. There was nothing to gain from it. “Do you… do you think that man had something to do with all the Grimm in the forest?”

“Maybe. Hard to know,” she replied. When he didn’t press her further, she muttered, “I need some tea,” and reached over to grab Janmu’s canteen. She jammed it into the coals of the dying fire.

Janmu shook his head. “What I am saying, that’s ridiculous. How could a person be involved with Grimm? Grimm kill people.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of everything. He looked bleary-eyed around the den, and noticed once again the peculiar clover that had sprouted, and the vines covering the ceiling. The remains of the tree roots that had bound Raven had sprouted white flowers. And then he remembered--before everything had gone blurry, before the burst of energy or whatever it was that had scared him--Raven’s eyes.

Raven’s eyes had caught fire. And now she seemed unharmed.

Janmu opened his mouth, then closed it again. All of this was new to him, and none of it made sense. Maybe it was all the cerneaf...but he was also fairly certain that Raven had been hiding things from him. He had to ask. . “Raven?” he asked. “Please don’t kill me for asking this; I do desperately want to live--but before…all of that…something happened with your eyes. Was…do you think that was the cerneaf too? Is that…part of your semblance?”

Raven sighed, and looked up at Janmu. The shadows from the flames danced on the den walls as she watched him in silence.

“How much do you know about the Grimm?” she asked, her voice suddenly full of steel.

“Um. Well, you know, the standard stuff”, Janmu replied. “Grimm bad, people good. They’re attracted to negative emotions, which let me tell you, as a budding comedian with anxiety, not a great thing to be told as a kid. Speaking of which, we did have a special assembly in school every year on how to not get killed by Grimm. They had a guy who would come in from the Atlas military, Special Operative J. J. Bittenbinder was his name. Now, let me tell you--”

“Shut up,” Raven interrupted. She took a deep breath.

“The Grimm were created,” she said. “Are created. In the beginning, there was darkness, and there was light. From the light came creation, and from the dark destruction. The darkness created its own agents of destruction, beings that could act independently to destroy the life that was being created--the Grimm. The light knew it couldn’t respond with independent beings of creation--they would overwhelm the world. So instead, the light and the dark created people--beings that exist in the balance between light and dark.” Raven poked at the fire, causing a burst of embers to swirl into the night air. She reached over to the pile of branches Janmu had collected earlier that evening, and added fresh pieces to the fire.

“But what does that have to do with your eyes catching fire?” Janmu asked.

“I wasn’t finished,” she snapped. “You wanted to know what that was, what’s really going on. I don’t have to tell you this, but I am. So shut up and listen.”

She hugged her knees and looked into the fire, her shadow dancing wildly on the vine-covered wall behind her as the new branches caught fire. “People, humans and faunus, exist in a state of balance. We can both create and destroy. We can fight the Grimm and keep them at bay, without engaging in so much wanton creation that Remnant is overrun.

“When the forces of darkness and light left Remnant, they left behind four gifts to help people maintain the balance between creation and destruction. These were physical gifts, you understand,” she said, looking up at Janmu. He nodded. “Powerful items, each containing a separate power--one with the power of knowledge, to know light from dark. One with the power of creation, to bring light to the world. Another with the power of destruction, to bring darkness. And one with the power of choice, to choose between light and dark.”

Realization dawned on Janmu, and he snapped his fingers. “And you had a run-in with one of these items and it gave you magical powers!” he concluded, pleased with his powers of deduction. 

Instead of praising his insight, however, Raven glared at him. “Did I look like I was finished?” she growled. “Do you suddenly want to tell the story?”

Janmu shrank back into Petunia. “No, I’m sorry, please go on,” he said.

“When they left, they didn’t just leave behind those four relics. They also left behind two special people--one, a wizard who had realized his power to create. The other, a witch who had realized her power to destroy. The forces of light and dark granted these two immortality--neither can be killed. At least, not permanently. And they have played their games with each other throughout history, with people like you and me,” she said, jabbing her finger at Janmu then herself, “as collateral in their push and pull between creation and destruction. The witch is the master of the Grimm. She creates them, and she commands them.”

Janmu stared at her. What she was saying… that meant that all of the strife, all the death the Grimm had ever caused… was because of a single person? “How… how is that possible?” he asked. “How can a single person be so evil?”

Raven smirked at him. “Plenty of people do evil things when given the chance. That’s part of why _he_ , the wizard, decided humanity couldn’t be trusted with the relics. He hid them away, and he created four uniquely powerful women--each with special powers to shape the world around her, and only she could access her relic. He created the Maidens, as he called them, to be the guardians of the relics.”

Now he understood. “So you’re a Maiden,” he said. “But if this has been going on all this time… wait, you’re not gonna tell me you’re immortal too,” he said, wagging a finger at her.

Raven snorted. “No. Hardly. Maidens can die. Especially,” she spat, “if they’re too young and naive to handle the power. When a Maiden dies, her power goes to someone new. Usually the last woman she thought of. But not always.”

Janmu furrowed his brow. “Okay, but you are a Maiden, right? That’s why you can do stuff that shouldn’t be possible with just a semblance, like start our fires--and your eyes catching fire, was that a Maiden thing too?”

Raven nodded as she leaned forward to pry the canteen out of the fire with a stick. She wrapped her hand with her bandana, unscrewed the lid and filled it with hot water, then set it down carefully in front of her. “I acquired my powers some years ago,” she said, as she fumbled in her pouch for spices to add to the makeshift cup. “My tribe came across the Spring Maiden, and took her in. But she was weak, and unable to handle her powers. So I became the new Spring Maiden.”

“Spring Maiden, huh?” Janmu said. “So that’s why…” he gestured at the flowering vines and clovers, “...you did the whole forest fairy thing.”

Raven’s red eyes flashed murderously. “Don’t call me that. But yes. The cerneaf found my powers, and I lost control. That’s why I was angry. I don’t,” she said, glaring sharply, “lose control.”

Janmu nodded thoughtfully. “So hey,” he said. “Can you like, control the weather? If you have special powers, and can do the whole spring thing…”

Raven sipped her tea. “I can but I don’t. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to the fact that I have these powers. If either the wizard or the witch found me, they would use me to gain access to my relic, and then I would just be another pawn in their little games. For years I even had a--” Raven’s voice caught. “--a bodyguard,” she continued, “who pretended to be the one with the powers. Just in case. And even then, I only used my powers when necessary. To protect the tribe.”

Janmu leaned forward. “If you used your powers to protect your tribe, why are you here, with me, now?” he asked. “Your tribe isn’t here. What’s so important up here in Solitas that you would be here alone?”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “I think that’s enough story time for one night. It’s your turn to sit watch,” she said, draining her tea. She moved to put away the canteen and lid, but Janmu pressed on.

“Come on, Raven,” he said. We’ve been traveling together for weeks, and you haven’t told me anything until tonight. And now you’ve told me that your tribe is so important that you would hide your powers to protect them. So why are you here with me?” 

“Janmu-” she began.

“I mean for crying out loud,” he continued. “You had a literal decoy! If finding out that you had the powers was so dangerous, what was supposed to happen to her if you got found out? That’s what decoys are for, right? To take the fall? You were willing to risk someone’s life to keep your powers a secret and protect your tribe, _so why aren’t you with them?_ ”

Scarlet flames bloomed from Raven’s eyes, and she threw the canteen aside. “How dare you?” she roared. “You know nothing! You don’t know anything about the tribe, or what I’ve been through!”

“So tell me!” Janmu huffed. He was sick of being kept in the dark. He was sick of feeling like a pet tagging along at worst, and an expendable sidekick at best. “You were willing to risk your bodyguard’s life. That had to have been someone close to you, right? So what about me? I’m not your tribe, I’m not your bodyguard. What about my life, when it comes down to it?”

Raven’s hands shook, and small spurts of flame played around her fingertips. “Vernal knew the risks,” she growled. “She agreed to be the decoy because she knew how important it was that we protect the tribe.” Raven clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut, and the spurts of flame sputtered into wisps of smoke. “It didn’t matter how we felt. It didn’t matter that losing her was the last thing I wanted. The tribe came first,” she said, her voice ragged. Peering through the dim light of the den, Janmu could see that fresh tears streaked her face.

Raven took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked at Janmu. “I have a job to do,” she said. “I let my emotions and my ambition get in the way, and because of that, I failed. I lost Vernal. And now the people I have left are in danger. I’m not going to fail again. My tribe matters. But right now the best thing I can do for my tribe is to be here, doing what I can to make things right.”

Janmu felt a pit in his stomach. He had until now seen Raven as scary, intense, and temperamental--a force to be reckoned with for sure. At her best she could perhaps be mistaken for an amiable person. He had never seen her like this. This was a woman carrying immense pain. He still didn’t fully understand. But he could understand the pain of loss.

“Raven, I’m sorry, I didn’t--” he began.

“I’ve had a long day and an even longer night,” she said, turning away and tucking her legs up against her chest. “I’m going to try to sleep for a bit. In the morning, we need to keep moving. We’re getting close, and as we learned today, these woods are full of Grimm.”

Grimm that were acting on orders, Janmu thought, as he shuffled over to the entrance of the den, where he could keep a better watch on the reeds of the marsh around them. He looked back at Raven, who had curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. If Raven was right, and the Grimm were being controlled… did the huge number of Grimm they had encountered earlier mean the witch, whoever she was, was nearby?

Janmu shuddered, and turned back to watch the reeds sway in the night air.

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.  
---|---  
| 

### Deendre

This is a deendre. About a metre at the shoulder, leaf-like antlers, relatively harmless. Found in large herds; very social animals. Herbivores. This is the adult form that sprioles grow into. They're also almost always accompanies by a single cerneaf (see next entry). Be cautious when approaching; deendres are reasonably timid and mild, but cerneafs are no joke. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  
| 

### Cerneaf

This big fella is a cerneaf. It stands about two metres at the shoulder. Giant leaf-like antlers. They seem to spend a lot of time sunbathing. I've only ever seen one at a time; they always accompany a giant herd of deendres and sprioles. If I had to guess, I'd say a deendre develops into a cerneaf when it becomes the leader of the herd. The name "cerneaf" means "guardian". and I have to say, it lives up to the name. Scary, scary things. Do not approach. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to [glomes](https://biqrow.tumblr.com/) in FGE for suggesting that Clover would like eclairs, and to everyone else in FGE for their great pastry suggestions. You all rock!


	9. Sushi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day on a supply run in an uncomfortable truck, Qrow and Clover decide to grab some dinner in Mantle. Just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COVID-19 Quarantine Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of sushi. If you are currently unable to obtain sushi due to quarantine restrictions, you may find reading this chapter to be a form of torture.
> 
> [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) provided some really crucial beta-reading, and I am ever so thankful.
> 
> An excerpt from Janmu's Field Notes is included at the end of the chapter as a visual reference.

Qrow gave Clover’s leg a playful backhanded whack as the truck rumbled across the frozen expanse that lay before Mantle’s city walls. Clover looked over, and met Qrow’s eyes. His tufts of graying hair caught the golden light of the setting sun, and the reflection in his red eyes made them seem to shine with fire. 

“What’s up?” Clover asked, trying to focus.

Qrow gave a small smile. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Just thinking. We’ve had a long day. Our lunch rations weren’t much. I’m feeling like I could use a bite! Ruby and Penny probably want to get back to their friends. But me, I don’t know if I’ll make it all the way back up to Atlas.”

Clover returned the smile. “We don’t have any official business on the docket tonight,” he replied. “Want to grab some dinner before we head home?”

Qrow nodded. “You bet,” he responded. He turned and looked over the back of his seat. “Hey girls,” he called back to Ruby and Penny, who were lounging in the back of the truck.

“Yes, Uncle Qrow?” Ruby replied.

“When we get back to the city, you and Penny go on ahead back to the Academy. I’m sure the others are eager to catch up after your missions today,” Qrow said.

“What about you and Clover?” Ruby asked.

“We’ll meet you later,” Clover said, locking eyes with Qrow’s.

“That sounds great!” said Penny. “I can’t wait to hear what everyone else did today! I bet they all had such fun! Don’t you think so, Ruby?”

Ruby paused before answering, then said, “Yeah, you’re probably right, Penny. They’ll for sure want to hear about Robyn.” 

The truck rumbled through the gates in the city wall, and rolled to a stop outside the Atlas transport station. The four of them clambered out of the truck, eager to stretch their legs after the long drive.

“We’ll catch up with you later, pipsqueak,” Qrow said, tousling Ruby’s hair. She chuckled, and brushed his hand aside.

“You got it, old man,” Ruby replied. She and Penny turned and started walking toward the station entrance. After a few steps, however, Ruby turned and pointed at Qrow and Clover.

“Don’t stay out too late, you two!” she commanded. 

Qrow threw his hands up, protesting his innocence. “You know me! I need my sleep!”

Satisfied, Ruby giggled, dropped her hand, and turned back to Penny. “No funny business!” she called over her shoulder, as she and Penny passed through the station doors.

Qrow waved as their backs disappeared into the station, then stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to Clover.

“So,” he said. “Got any recommendations?”

Clover stroked his chin thoughtfully. There was a reasonably good noodle place not too far away. They could certainly eat their fill there. But slurping noodles seemed like a recipe for sauce on a shirt, and he was still in his uniform. He snapped his fingers--he had an idea.

“Do you like sushi?” he asked Qrow.

“Absolutely,” Qrow replied. “I didn’t realize Atlas had sushi. I’ve only had it in port cities.”

Clover waved for him to begin walking with him. “We’re not a port city, that’s true. But there are a number of fishing villages along the coast, and the cold weather and abundance of snow and ice makes it easy to keep the fish fresh on its way here. I know a place that does a pretty good job, but we’d have to walk a bit--if you’re starving, we could go someplace closer.”

Qrow shrugged. “I don’t mind the walk,” he said. “Not after all that sitting. We didn’t even get any exercise when Robyn showed up.”

Clover chuckled, and they began walking into the city. “Yes, though I’m glad we didn’t have to fight her,” he said. “I actually like a lot of what she’s saying.”

Qrow looked over at Clover in surprise. “Really, you like Robyn Hill? With all the trouble she’s giving Ironwood?”

Now it was Clover’s turn to shrug. “I don’t agree with her methods,” he explained, as they turned onto one of Mantle’s main streets. “Like I told her out there today, I think she’d have more success going through official channels--such as becoming a councilwoman.”

“You don’t think she’d be a thorn in Jimmy’s side once she’s on the council?”

Clover paused in front of a Robyn Hill campaign poster. It had a large outline of Robyn’s face, with several large bullet-pointed items from her campaign platform. “It’s not my job to question orders,” he explained. “It’s my job to obey them, and implement General Ironwood’s vision. But that doesn’t mean nobody should question them.” He turned back to Qrow. “The General is still just a man. He’s doing what he thinks is best. But if there’s never anybody to look over his shoulder….”

“Then who knows what he’ll come up with eventually,” Qrow offered.

“I just think we have a Council for a reason,” Clover continued, as they resumed walking. “If all they do is rubber-stamp what _we_ do, then that’s not much of a reason. Robyn’s smart, and capable. And she cares about serving the people, and protecting them. That’s what General Ironwood wants too. They may not always agree--but at least they’re fighting for the same team. I can’t say the same for Jacques Schnee.”

“Hey, I can’t argue with you there,” said Qrow. 

They walked in amicable silence, the dim amber glow of the city’s heating grid settling over them as the sun’s light faded. Clover liked this. It was nice to have someone he could walk with in silence, without the complications of his military position. With his teammates, there was always the reality of rank; that was true with Ironwood as well. And when he had tried to go on dates with civilians, there was the burden of the secrets he couldn’t share. But with Qrow, there were no secrets. No military power dynamic to navigate. It was nice.

Qrow’s short chuckle pulled him back from his reverie. Clover looked over at his companion with a raised eyebrow.

Qrow caught the glance, and said, “You know, once upon a time, I might have ended up like Robyn and her Huntresses.”

“You? A Happy Huntress?” Clover chuckled at the mental image. 

Qrow laughed as well, and said, “No, but before Oz brought me on board and told me everything, I didn’t have a lot of respect for authority. Thought I could make the world a better place on my own--just me and my friends. I grew up in a bandit tribe, you know.”

Clover nodded. “General Ironwood gave us a very brief biography for each of you. But I don’t know anything about your experience growing up in that tribe--just that you did. I’d love to learn more, if you’re willing to share.”

Qrow kicked at a crumpled can as they walked. “Our tribe…always operated outside the normal rules of society. We provided for ourselves, and we tried not to do too much lasting damage in the process. But our most important rule was that no matter what, you protected each other. The tribe was one big family. You did what you had to in order to protect the tribe, no matter what. That was why they sent us to Beacon--my sister and me. They needed us to be trained as Hunters.”

“To protect the tribe from Grimm,” Clover offered.

“That,” Qrow said. “And also from other Huntsmen and Huntresses. When you operate outside the law, the law comes after you. So if we wanted to survive, we had to have our own Hunters.”

Clover knit his brows as they walked. “That certainly doesn’t seem like the person I’ve been getting to know,” he said. “You strike me as pretty willing to stick to the plan. Hardly a rebellious insurgent.”

Qrow shot him a glance. “To a point,” he said. “James is keeping secrets, the same way Oz did. I never much liked it when Oz did it, and I don’t like it much now. I see the reasoning, but I don’t like it.” He sighed. “But you’re right; I’m not who I was back then. I thought I could change the world, just me, my sister, and our teammates. Build a better society, where our tribe didn’t have to steal to survive, where we could live the way we wanted, without worry of the law or the Grimm.”

“What changed?” Clover asked softly.

Qrow sighed softly. “Oz told us what was really going on,” he said. “And that was that. In the face of that kind of adversary…what choice do you have but to play your part? So I did.”

Clover reached over and laid his hand on Qrow’s shoulder, and the two men stopped walking. “I’m glad you did,” he said. “We’re going to need you in this fight. And I know I keep repeating myself, but those kids wouldn’t be who they are without your influence. I’d say we’re pretty lucky to have you.”

In the dim, orange glow of Mantle’s lights, Clover could see a slight blush rise on Qrow’s cheeks.

“Thanks, Clover,” he said, running a hand nervously through the hair on the back of his head. “That...that means a lot.”

“Come on,” Clover said. “We’re getting close. And I’m getting pretty hungry too.”

~

Clover pulled open the heavy wooden door of the restaurant, and gestured for Qrow to enter. The interior was small and cozy, with dark wood-paneled walls matching the floors, and several tables crammed into the small space. In front of the opposite wall, next to the door to the kitchen, stood a long counter topped with a low glass window, through which the chef’s knife skills could be observed. 

Clover frowned. The Mantle Shrimp was normally a popular spot, with nearly every table full. He had expected a short wait. But tonight, it was almost empty--just a single patron hunched over a table near the back. 

“Just a minute!” came a deep shout from the kitchen. A moment later, a large, burly man in an apron bustled through, wiping his hands with a cloth.

“Clover!” the man boomed. “Came by for dinner, did you?”

Clover smiled. “Sure did, Louis. And I brought a friend--Qrow, this is Louis, the owner and chef,” Clover said, turning to Qrow and gesturing to the large man. “Louis,” he continued, turning back to the chef, “Qrow is visiting Atlas, and working with the Ace-Ops while he’s here.”

Louis smiled at Qrow jovially. “Well,” he said, “a friend of Clover’s is a friend of mine. Clover’s a regular, you know.” He beckoned for them to enter and sit at a table near the counter, on which he set two cups of tea and a small teapot. “I can always rely on that military budget of his for a pick-me-up on a slow day.”

Clover chuckled. “Speaking of which,” he said, “this time of night? This place should be busier. What’s going on, Louis?”

Louis winced. “Well, you know, things have been getting harder in Mantle. The embargo has meant layoffs, and reduced hours. I’d lower my prices, but there’s only so far I can go,” he explained. “Speaking of which--forget what I said about your budget cheering me up.”

Clover frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Louis opened his mouth in a wide grin, showing a silver-capped incisor. “You did me a favor, young man,” he replied. “I heard about your little stunt with the nessla in the fishing village.”

Clover raised his eyebrows. “That news got around fast.”

Louis gave a hearty laugh. “No, Clover, but my best supplier lives in that village! Her wholesale prices dropped by half today with that nessla gone!” He rested his knuckles on the table, and leaned over the two of them. “Now that I’m not paying an arm and a leg for the good stuff, I should be able to lower my prices. Clearing out that nessla may have saved the Mantle Shrimp.”

Qrow arched his eyebrows at Clover across the table. Clover smiled at Qrow, and then up at Louis. “Well, Louis,” he said, “I didn’t know it would have that effect, but I’m glad it did. I don’t know what I’d do if this place closed.” Clover frowned, remembering Louis’s comment about his budget. “Wait, I still don’t understand--why won’t my budget cheer you up tonight?”

Louis rapped on the table and straightened up. “It’s only fair, my boy!” he declared. “You got me a fifty percent price drop in my wholesale supply, so tonight, for you and your friend only, everything on the menu is half off!”

Clover’s jaw dropped, and Qrow’s eyebrows arched even higher. “Well, Louis, that’s very generous of you,” Clover said.

Louis beamed at him. “To the contrary, Clover--it’s exactly fair!” He turned back to the counter, and grabbed two menus, which he placed in front of Qrow and Clover. “Now,” he said, “I’ll let you two take a look at the options, and get back to those dishes. I’ll come and check on you in a few minutes.”

As soon as Louis was through the kitchen door, Qrow burst out laughing, and Clover couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“If I didn’t know better,” Qrow said, wagging a finger at Clover, “I’d say you arranged for this to happen.”

Clover held up his hands. “Honestly, I had no idea his supplier was in that village. The nessla was on the mission board just like any other mission,” he said, flipping open his menu.

A minute or two and a few page flips later, they had both settled on their order, and closed their menus. Louis came out a short while later, and having written down the lengthy order, hustled back into the kitchen.

“You know,” said Qrow, “the really funny part is that from what you’ve told me, the real credit for taking care of the nessla should go to Nora.”

Clover nodded, and sipped his tea. “I feel confident we could have trapped the nessla without her--we had a pretty good plan of attack worked out in advance. But I definitely did not expect her to feed off the nessla’s energy like that, or do…whatever it was she did to subdue it. She was the star of that show.”

Qrow gave a small laugh. “And you know, if she found out that the reward for her heroism was half-off everything on the menu at a nice sushi place like this? And she’s missing it? She’d lose her mind!”

Clover laughed. “I guess we’d better not tell her then,” he said, winking at Qrow. “This outing will just have to be our little secret.”

Qrow cocked his eyebrow. “Ruby and Penny know,” he pointed out. “Trust me, it’s hard to keep secrets from those kids. Ruby’s persistent, Weiss is whip-smart, and Nora might be the most perceptive of the bunch.”

Clover conceded the point with a gesture of his tea. “You do have a point. We don’t have to tell them about the discount, though. Let them think I treated you to an expensive dinner.”

Qrow’s eyes narrowed. “You treated me? You think you’re paying for dinner?”

Clover shrugged. “If you don’t mind,” he said. “I figured since coming here was my idea, I ought to pay.”

“Tell you what,” Qrow said, leaning over the table. “I’ll pay for this one, and then you can pay for the next date.”

Clover’s ears immediately turned hot. He imagined they were probably the same color as the crab legs on display behind the counter. A date? Well, then. He gulped down the knot that had formed in his throat, and said, “Sure. It’s a deal. And no matter what, we don’t tell Nora about the cheap food she’s missing.” Clover gave a mock shudder. “I’d hate to see what she’s like when she’s angry.”

Qrow chuckled, and leaned back in his chair, tea in hand. “Heh, yeah. Poor Ren.”

“You think there’s something there?” Clover asked.

Qrow raised an eyebrow as he drank his tea. “You saw her go after the nessla; you think Ren stands a chance once she realizes she’s in love with him?”

Clover shook his head. “You’ve got a point, but they’re also teammates. Ren’s got his head on straight, and he’s taking the mission very seriously. You don’t think they would err on the side of professionalism?”

“They could,” Qrow admitted. “But I doubt it. Blake and Yang, on the other hand--there’s a couple who might realize they’re in love, but not do anything about it.”

“Really, Blake and Yang? That’s news to me,” Clover said. “They’re always on the same missions, but I assumed that was because they work well together as teammates.”

Qrow gave him a look over his tea. “Marrow’s been on most of their missions,” he said. “Next time you see him, ask him how often those two are out of sight of each other. They’re inseparable, just like Ren and Nora. But they’ve both been through a lot, and they might decide, or may have already, to focus on being teammates. Who happen to be in love.”

Clover frowned. “Are romantic pairings among teammates this common at Beacon? We’ve certainly not seen that here in Atlas.”

Qrow smirked. “Look,” he said. “Beacon puts people together in pairs right at the beginning. The person you pair with, they’re your partner the whole time you’re there--and after too. You have other teammates, sure, but your partner in particular is there for everything. You see each other at your best and at your worst, and you have to learn to lean on each other. If you haven’t killed each other by the time you’re out in the real world…let’s just say I’ve seen this happen before. Several times. Ren and Nora have a head start on that, but Blake and Yang are learning to navigate this in the middle of everything else that’s happening.”

Clover leaned back in his chair. The way Beacon and Atlas approached their students could not have been more different. His regimented training with a strict military hierarchy and discipline had not left any room for attachments. The school officials had emphasized that Hunters had to learn to work effectively with any partner--even if ultimately, the top Huntsmen and Huntresses would be assigned to teams specially-chosen for their compatibility. 

As he was pondering those differences, Louis came through the kitchen door, carrying several platters of sushi. He set a large wooden board down on the table, and began transferring their food. They had ordered a large selection, and an enticing array of aromas wafted up from their order--salmon nigiri, tuna maki, and mushroom uramaki in the center of the wooden board, arranged around a bouquet of Argus maki, crab legs artfully poking out of each roll. Finally, Louis placed a plate in front of Clover with half a dozen shrimp tempura temaki arranged neatly in a row--his favorite. In front of Qrow went a similar plate, with a row of ten spicy pumpkin tempura maki, each topped with a small dab of wasabi. Clover had raised his eyebrows at that suggestion--he wasn’t particularly fond of spicy food, and had been hoping to sample each part of the order. Qrow insisted, however, that despite the lack of fish, no sushi roll could beat spicy pumpkin tempura. He claimed that the sweetness of the pumpkin would balance the heat. Clover couldn’t deny, now that the food was in front of them, that the pumpkin rolls looked and smelled appetizing.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Louis,” he said. “This looks incredible!”

The chef beamed. “Only the best for you and your friend,” he replied. “Enjoy!”

The two men dug into the feast before them, and for several minutes the silence was punctuated only by small moans of delight and grunts of satisfaction. Eventually, their ravenous hunger was sated, and their pace slowed.

“Qrow,” Clover began, pondering the fragrant mushroom uramaki he held in his chopsticks. The other man looked up from the remains of his Argus roll, which had fallen apart en route to his mouth. The end of a crab leg poked out of his mouth, and then quickly disappeared. “You mentioned that you’d seen romantic pairings develop several times at Beacon,” Clover continued. “Were you speaking from personal experience?”

Qrow shrugged. “Yes and no--I didn’t get involved with my partner, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Clover chewed and swallowed the last of his uramaki, and nodded. “You named the zephyruff Summer, and I know you had a teammate by the same name. I wasn’t sure if there was a connection.”

“There was,” Qrow sighed. “Summer Rose was my partner. And eventually, Ruby’s mother. But she and I were never an item. Ruby’s father is Taiyang, who was partnered with my sister, Raven.”

“But Raven is Yang’s mother,” Clover said. “Did Taiyang…”

“I told you I saw partners fall in love a few times,” Qrow said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Tai and Raven did, and they had Yang. Not long after that, Raven decided she wanted to go back to the tribe. Felt that was more important than what she had with us. Left us with Yang to raise without her. After that…things got complicated for a bit. Summer and Tai ended up together, and had Ruby.”

“And you?” Clover asked. “That must have been awkward at times, being the odd one out, with the other three involved like that.”

Qrow raised his eyebrows, knocked back the rest of his tea, and set to refilling his cup. “Like I said,” he replied, cradling the cup in his hands, “things were complicated.” He looked up at Clover, and he noticed that Qrow’s red eyes had taken on a tinge of sorrow. “I told you in the mine that it’s been a long time since I worked with others in the field. That was part of that decision. Seemed like no matter what, things would get complicated somehow. Having my semblance didn’t help that. Just seemed easier after all that to work alone.”

“Well,” Clover said, raising the last tuna maki, “I’m glad I haven’t scared you away yet. I’m happy to keep our friendship simple if that’s what you want.”

Qrow gave a small laugh. “We’ll see,” he said. “Hey, there’s one of these pumpkin maki left. I really think you should try it,” he said, picking it up in his chopsticks, and waving it in the air.

Clover chuckled. “I don’t know, Qrow, I know you said the pumpkin mellows the spice, but spice is really not my thing…”

Qrow draped his hand across his chest melodramatically. “Just my luck,” he said. “I open up to this man, and he won’t even try my pumpkin maki. Complicated already.”

Clover grinned. “Alright, alright, you don’t have to-- _mmphmph_ ” he said, trailing off through the maki Qrow had just shoved through his open mouth. How _did_ he move that fast? As he bit down into the crunch of the pumpkin tempura, the warm, savory sweetness of the pumpkin flooded his mouth. Clover moaned in pleasure and nodded at Qrow, who smirked with satisfaction. As Clover chewed, he felt a sharp heat bloom--at first subtle, balanced as Qrow had said by the warm sweetness of the pumpkin. And then, as he swallowed, the fire burst into a searing inferno in his mouth, and he lunged for his tea, as Qrow laughed uproariously. 

~

“Well? What do you think of Atlas sushi?” Clover asked, as they stepped out into the night air.

“I gotta say,” Qrow said, stretching and putting his hands behind his head, “that was some of the best sushi I’ve ever had. Great suggestion, Clover.”

Clover bowed. “It was my pleasure! I’m glad I could introduce you to my favorite sushi spot. And thank _you_ for suggesting we grab dinner--I had a really nice time. You make for good company.”

Qrow looked away. “Oh, I--” He stopped himself, and turned back to Clover. “Thank you, Clover,” Qrow said, locking eyes with him. “So do you.” 

Qrow pulled out his scroll, and said, “You know, we should probably head back. It’s getting late, and we have work in the morning.” He swiped through his scroll, pulling up a map of Mantle. “Wow,” he said. “ I didn’t realize how far we were from the transport station.”

Clover gave him a sidelong look. “If you’re worried about how long it’ll take to get home, there are faster ways than walking,” he said.

“What do you have in mind?” Qrow asked, putting away his scroll.

Clover brandished Kingfisher. “I used to spend a lot of time down here, “ he said, running one hand along Kingfisher’s shaft. “Transportation options this far from the city walls tend to be slim. I learned pretty quickly that the fastest way to get anywhere is to fly.”

Qrow stared at him, his eyes wide. “What did you just say?” he asked.

Clover turned back to Qrow. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s reasonably safe. Just takes technique, strength, and a bit of luck. I’ve got years of experience doing this, luck you already know, and strength,” he flexed a bicep at Qrow, “I’ve got. All you have to do is hold on.”

Qrow blinked. “Oh. You meant swing our way there. With Kingfisher.”

“What did you think I meant?” Clover asked, giving Qrow a puzzled look. 

Qrow shook his head. “Nevermind. Yeah, sure, let’s do it. Just tell me what to do.”

Clover turned back to the street ahead of him, and scanned the walls of the buildings clustered against the sidewalk. The buildings here were all relatively tall, but he wanted something a little lower for their first swing. He spotted a balcony halfway up a building a few doors down. That would do.

He pointed to the balcony, and said, “We need to get up there. Think you can make that?”

Qrow gave him a sly look, pulled out Harbinger, and flipped it open, exposing the shotgun barrels. He aimed at the ground, and jumped as he pulled the trigger, rocketing through the air towards the balcony. He landed deftly, shouldered Harbinger, and waved back to Clover.

Clover grinned, and took off at a run. He cast Kingfisher’s hook up to the balcony, catching its railing. He leapt off the ground and pulled on the line, swinging into a high arc. As he slowed, he began retracting the line, and pulled himself back over into a loop. He looked back over his shoulder, judged the remaining distance, released the hook, and lazily rolled through a half-somersault, landing directly in front of Qrow. 

Qrow grinned. “Show-off, eh?” he said.

Clover winked at him. “Okay, let’s see,” he said, scanning the rooftops for an ideal attachment point. There--a street lamp attached to the eaves of an apartment building, perhaps half a block away.

He lined up his throw, and cast Kingfisher’s hook, focusing on its trajectory. There was a sharp _clang_ as the hook connected with the metal bar, and Clover closed the reel and pulled the line taut. 

“Good to go,” he said to Qrow. He stepped up onto the railing, and held his free arm out to Qrow. “Hold on tight!”

Qrow stepped into Clover’s waiting arm, and threw his arms around Clover’s neck, burying his face against Clover’s head. Clover closed his arm around Qrow, holding his back just below the shoulder, and pulled him tight. His heart pounded, and as he took a deep breath, he noted that same earthy scent he remembered from their sparring match--this time more subtle, masked by the faint floral aromas of sushi.

“Up we go!” he said. He hoisted Qrow in his arms, and leapt off the balcony, pulling on Kingfisher’s line to build momentum. He felt Qrow’s hands grip his shoulders tightly as they sailed through the air. As they swung through the low point of the arc, Clover looked ahead for the next anchor point. He released the hook, swung Kingfisher through the air, and cast the hook ahead. Another _clang_ , and as their upward swing slowed, he again yanked on the rod and pulled them into the next swing, enjoying the feel of the cool night air flowing past his face and through his short hair. 

Several minutes later, he squeezed Qrow to let him know they were on their final swing. He retracted the reel as they swung past the low point of the swing, pulling them up toward his anchor point, a truss holding an array of security cameras above the entrance to the transport station. He wondered if this would make it back to General Ironwood. As Clover felt their momentum fade away, he began to let out line, lowering the two of them to the ground. As their feet lightly touched the ground, he released the hook, retracted the line, and stowed Kingfisher.

He turned his head to Qrow, hoping he hadn’t found this stunt too recklessly adolescent. “Well?” he asked. “Thoughts on traveling by air?”

Qrow pulled his head back, and his scarlet eyes locked with Clover’s. Qrow pulled one of his hands back from around Clover’s neck, held Clover’s face, and then kissed him. For the briefest moment, Clover froze, completely unprepared for Qrow’s lips on his own. Despite the happiness he had felt on their date, he had not allowed himself to hope that Qrow might actually be interested.

Clover pushed away his swirling thoughts, closed his eyes, and leaned into the kiss. His heart raced as he felt Qrow’s other hand slide up the back of his head, Qrow’s fingers gliding through his hair and digging in as he held him close. Clover tightened his grip on Qrow’s back, and brought the hand that had held Kingfisher to Qrow’s waist, enjoying the feel of the other man’s torso against his own.

Despite his pounding heartbeat, Clover felt as if time had slowed, and the noise of the city had faded away--and then the moment was over, and Qrow had pulled away, taking a step back.

“I--I’m sorry,” he stammered, looking away. “I didn’t ask, I just assumed--”

“Hey,” Clover said, placatingly. “It’s okay. That...that was nice,” he said smiling. Qrow smiled sheepishly at him.

“So much for not making it complicated,” he said, with a small laugh. 

“It doesn’t have to be complicated if we don’t want it to be,” Clover said, stepping forward and taking Qrow’s hand. “I’ll tell you what, I wouldn’t mind going on another date. My turn to pay, of course,” he said with a wink. “The election is in a few days. I bet I could convince General Ironwood to give everyone the night off--we’ll need to be fresh the next morning no matter who wins--I can’t imagine things will be particularly peaceful either way. Why don’t we find something fun to do, the two of us?”

Qrow smiled, and stepped forward for a quick peck on Clover’s cheek. “I’d like that.”

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Nessla

These show up occasionally near fishing villages. Nesslas are huge--they can get up to 10 metres long. Biggest I've seen was off the coast of Argus, maybe 6 or 7 metres long. Supposedly they get bigger the colder the water is. Real talk: if local officials tell you one of these is around, _don't go swimming_. They hunt fish by releasing huge bursts of electricity into the water and eating the stunned fish. Unless you want to get cooked from the inside, stay the fuck away from Nesslas.  
---|---  
| 

### Zephyruff

Okay, I get that they're cute, and fit in the palm of your hand, but seriously? Zephyruffs are one of the most venomous flying temtems. A single sneeze and you get gassed. Fortunately they're very rare. They nest on cliffs near Argus. On an unrelated note, never visit your aunt in Argus.  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major shout-out to [glomes](https://biqrow.tumblr.com/), [wes_the_writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wes_the_writer), and [always_teatime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_teatime) on FGE for your amazing thoughts on Clover and Qrow's sushi preferences!


	10. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beach episode for Raven and Janmu! Except it's not very relaxing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter benefited a *lot* from my beta-readers, [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet). A visual guide to Raven and Janmu's temtem is included at the end of the chapter.

Despite the cold weather, Janmu was sweating. The air was crystal-clear, and the sky above them a deep blue that seemed to go on forever. Although the sun was low in the sky, it shone brightly, and Janmu felt his back growing warm as they hiked up the ridge. 

“Raven!” he said, calling ahead to the dark figure clambering up the rocky slope far ahead of him. “I need a moment!” Off in the distance, he saw the small figure raise her arms in frustration.  _ Sorry, Raven _ , he thought. He pulled out his canteen, removed the cap, and took a swig. The water was ice-cold, and had a very faint taste of tree bark and pine--despite his best efforts, Raven’s constant use of the lid to drink tea had infused the metal with the taste of her tea ingredients. 

He took the opportunity to look back at the landscape they had traversed. Stretches of snow shone brightly in the sun on the flank of the ridge, broken by patches of scrub as the slope reached the valley floor. Far off in the distance, he could see the faint green blur of the forest they had left behind, at the edge of the mountain range on the opposite side of the valley. To the south, he could see the glimmer of the ocean in the distance. He sighed. Solitas was a beautiful continent. He wished, not for the first time, that he could have explored it under different circumstances, without the threat of the Grimm, and preferably with better clothes and a ready supply of snacks. He and Raven had managed okay, foraging for edible plants and berries, and trapping the occasional rabbit or squirrel. But he missed crackers. And cheese. He really missed cheese. He resolved that the first thing he would do when they returned to Atlas would be to charter a transport up to the City of Atlas and visit the most expensive fromagerie he could find. 

“If you’re done sightseeing, let’s keep moving,” Raven said, from behind him. Janmu spun and nearly slipped on the loose mix of gravel and snow beneath his feet. Raven had approached silently, and had somehow over the course of his short break managed to cover the entirety of the hundred meters that had separated them.

“For the love of--how do you do that?” he asked, regaining his balance and stowing the canteen. 

“Practice,” she replied. “Now come on. If we keep moving, we should be able to make it to Atlas not long after nightfall.”

Janmu groaned as they resumed their trudge up the slope. “It’s so vertical, though,” he complained.

“We can go around this mountain by the coast if you want, but that’ll add at least two days,” Raven warned.

Janmu sighed. She was right. They were this close to Atlas; they might as well tough it out. There was one more valley beyond this ridge, and then nothing but the flat, icy plain that lay before the city.

After twenty minutes of the arduous climb, they crested the ridge. Janmu bent over with his hands on his knees, panting for breath. He reflected that perhaps he should have removed the heavy woven armor Raven had made him. She had made true on her promise in the marsh, and had fashioned a breastplate of woven reeds, along with spaulders for his shoulders and greaves for his legs. Beside him, Raven stood easily, adorned with her own woven reed cloak, seemingly unaffected by the climb.

“How do you do that?” he asked her again, looking up at her.

Raven didn’t respond, however. Janmu looked at her face, and saw that her expression held a mix of determination and disappointment. Anger played at the edges of her mouth, and he thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. 

“Raven?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Take a look,” she said, her words heavy and full of steel. 

Janmu straightened up, and looked out beyond the ridge on which they stood. Before them lay another wide, shallow valley that stretched for miles in either direction, with another low ridge standing between it and the icy plain that Janmu knew awaited them. The valley floor was white with snow, the monotony broken by thousands of black specks. The specks seemed randomly distributed, with a few clumps here and there. 

Janmu frowned. “What, the rocks in the snow? We can probably walk around them,” he suggested, uncertainly.

“Look again,” Raven said.

Janmu looked again at the valley floor, straining to see what she was referring to. Then he saw it--a black speck was moving. As he watched, he realized they were all moving--the entire length of the valley, a mass of slowly swarming black specks, carpeting the ice as far as the eye could see. Janmu felt panic rise within him, as did the hairs on the back of his neck, as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

“No,” he breathed.

“Grimm,” she confirmed. 

Janmu felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and he sat heavily on the rocky ground. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There were thousands--no, tens of thousands, if not more--of Grimm in that valley. He clutched at his hair, his blood pounding in his ears. How was this possible? What were they all doing here? Of course, he knew. The witch. She was here, and had come to attack Atlas. All hope he had had of returning home, of leading a normal life, evaporated away, like the inky black mists of the Grimm they had slain on their journey. Janmu felt his world fall away from him, and he crammed his fist into his mouth, and silently screamed.

Raven sat down next to him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Janmu looked up at her, eyes wide with panic. “Why are they here? Why is  _ she _ here?”

Raven shifted her weight, turning to face him. There was a wildness to her eyes, and her cheeks glistened with moisture. “Janmu,” she said, “this is important. What were you doing the day your airship crashed?”

The question took Janmu by complete surprise, and he looked at her in bewilderment. “What?” he asked. “You mean, like, what did I do during the crash, after the crash, after I brushed my teeth in the morning…?”

“No, Janmu,” she said, a growing anger in her voice. She grabbed Janmu’s chin and held his face level with hers. “Why was your airship out there? Why were you so far from Atlas?”

Janmu’s forehead creased, and he said, “I don’t know, it was a supply run of some kind. You know, go get the supplies, bring them back. Wait, what do you mean ‘so far from Atlas?’”

Raven sighed heavily. “Janmu,” she said. “Do you realize how far we’ve traveled? We haven’t been moving slowly--we crossed most of Solitas. What kind of supply run involves a trans-continental flight?”

Janmu stared at her. She was right, of course. It didn’t make any sense for them to have been out that far. “You know, now that you mention it,” he said, “you’re right, that’s very strange!”

Raven nodded. “James Ironwood is a clever man, and clever men have plans. I’d wager he’s up to something, something that can’t be supplied locally, and you were running an errand for his little scheme.”

“But wait, no, that still makes no sense,” Janmu protested. “Almost everyone on that ship was low-ranking. Heck, half of us were new recruits! If you’ve got a big secret plan with special requirements, wouldn’t you send, I dunno, someone you trust?”

Raven nodded again. “You might,” she agreed. “Or, you might send someone disposable, in case they get caught. Ironwood knows that the enemy isn’t just mindless Grimm,” Raven pressed. “Someone he trusts is someone who knows too much. Whatever you were supposed to be doing, it was important enough that nobody on the ship could know why, and dangerous enough that you all had to be disposable.”

Janmu frowned. “What are you saying?”

Raven narrowed her eyes. “I’m saying that clever men are never as clever as they think they are, and the witch, Salem, has reached the same conclusions you and I just did. She knows Ironwood is working on something big, and she knows it has to do with her. So she’s here to make sure there’s no possibility of Atlas stopping her, ever.”

Janmu looked into Raven’s red eyes, looking for any hint of comfort, a plan, anything. The last several weeks had been unlike any of his preceding years, but now he truly felt that his life had been upended. To think that what was now unfolding, he had been a part of….

“What do we do?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Raven sighed. “I guess we’ll go along the coast,” she said.

Janmu gulped, and drew a shaking breath. “You--you still want to go to Atlas? Knowing that’s coming?”

Raven looked at him, with cold, dangerous determination in her eyes. “My daughter is in that city,” she said. “This fight was always coming. Once upon a time I would have thought I could let Ironwood and his tin soldiers have that fight, and I would keep my tribe safe. When the dust settled, we would pick up the pieces and survive. I no longer have that option. I’m going to protect my daughter, and my tribe. The question is, Janmu Laney,” she said, gripping his shoulder tightly, “what are you going to do?”

Janmu took a deep breath. “Mantle is my home. I’m no good in a fight. But I can’t sit back and let the witch destroy my city.”

“Good,” Raven said, getting to her feet. She offered Janmu her hand. “Will you help me save my daughter?”

Janmu looked up at her, his vision blurred by his tears. “Is it okay if I don’t decide right now?” he asked. “Like I said, I’m not much use, and maybe it’s best for me to die at home with my family….”

Raven shook her outstretched hand at him. “You don’t have to decide right now, but don’t sell yourself short. You’re not dead, and right now that says a lot about you. Besides, you’re not unarmed anymore. You have that axe you fashioned,” she said, pointing to the stone hatchet hanging from his belt. 

Janmu looked at her outstretched hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, accepted it and climbed to his feet. 

“Now come on,” she said. “Crying about the end of the world won’t get you home any faster. Once we’re off the ridge, we can ride our temtem and shave some time off the journey. Maybe make it there tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

~~~

General James Ironwood was hunched over his desk, flipping through a thick stack of papers, when Clover knocked on his open door. He looked up at the knock, and Clover snapped to attention with a smart salute.

“At ease. What is it, Clover?” Ironwood asked. 

Clover brought his hand down and stepped into the room, clasping his hands behind his back. The room was dimly-lit, Ironwood’s papers illuminated primarily by the moonlight spilling in from the large window behind his chair. Clover knew the general had been working nights since the Amity Communications Tower project had begun, but the sight of Ironwood literally working in the dark took him by surprise nonetheless. Nevermind that, he thought to himself, the general had his reasons. He took a deep breath.

“Sir,” Clover began, “as you know, the election is tomorrow night--”

“Don’t remind me,” Ironwood groaned, as he moved a sheaf of forms into a tray at the edge of the desk. “Getting Amity Tower built is enough of a challenge without needing to manage Robyn and Jacques Schnee.” The general looked up at Clover’s silence. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking himself. “I interrupted. Continue, Clover.”

“Yes, sir. The election is tomorrow night, and it occurred to me that perhaps we should give everyone the night off.”

Ironwood stared at Clover, his hands frozen in the air over a new stack of forms. “You want to...you want everyone off-duty as the results come in? Need I remind you that Jacques Schnee has people rioting in Mantle as we speak?”

Clover nodded in acknowledgment. “I recognize that it sounds counter-intuitive, sir. And perhaps we can task some of the Ace-Ops with running security at the campaign events. But we’ve been running ourselves into the ground lately--”

“We haven’t had a choice!” Ironwood objected, clenching his hands into fists.

“--and if people are going to cause problems because of the election,” Clover pressed on, “there’ll probably be more trouble the next day. Sir, we need everyone to be fresh and at their best, no matter what the morning brings--whether it’s riots or Robyn.”

General Ironwood leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the edge of the desk, watching Clover in silence. Eventually he seemed to make up his mind, and began nodding.

“Yes,” he said to himself, rising from his chair and walking out from behind the desk. “Yes, if we give them the night off, they’ll recharge, and be more useful in the morning, which, as you say,” he said, gesturing to Clover absent-mindedly with his pen, “will most likely be worse than election night itself. And if there is any trouble that night, our people will already be spread out around the city, doing whatever it is they do on their night off.”

Ironwood paused his pacing, and looked up at Clover. “Clover, that’s a brilliant idea. We can be ready to meet any threat on election night, while ensuring that we’re prepared for the morning.” Ironwood reached over and clapped Clover on the shoulder. “This is why I know I can count on you,” he said. “With leadership like that, who knows…” he chuckled to himself. “One day you might even have my job.”

Ironwood walked back to his desk and sat in his chair. “I’ll leave the Ace-Ops assignments to you,” he said, reaching for the previously-abandoned stack of forms. “Why don’t you and I tell Ruby and the others tomorrow morning after their training session?”

“Sounds good sir,” Clover replied.

“Oh, and Clover,” Ironwood said, not looking up from his papers as Clover turned to leave. “Please don’t swing from city infrastructure unless it’s to fight Robyn, Grimm, or Salem.”

“Yes, sir,” Clover said, and turned and marched swiftly out of the general’s office, his ears growing hot with the rising blush. 

~~~

Seabirds wheeled overhead as they made their way along the rocky shore. The ridge they had climbed earlier extended here into a peninsula, the steeply-rising terrain forcing them to hug the water’s edge as they rounded the tip. Large waves crashed against the shore, showering Janmu and Raven with an intermittent salty spray that gradually soaked into their clothes, lending a sharp bite to the cold sea breeze. 

As they rode, the cerneaf’s hooves and Petunia’s paws clattering against the shore’s large water-worn pebbles, Raven reflected on how resilient Janmu appeared to be. Despite the shock of the Grimm horde they had discovered, after only a few minutes of silence during their descent from the ridge, he had proceeded to launch into one of his stupid stories. Previously, when he had tried to tell a long-winded story during their weeks of travel together, Raven had shut him down--she was not particularly interested in some meaningless story from years past that had nothing to do with anything. But now she let him talk--the size of Salem’s army had shocked even her, and if telling stories helped take Janmu’s mind off the threat, then perhaps he would survive a little longer when they inevitably had to fight. The current story seemed to revolve around his mother being attracted to some politician, and his father being unimpressed. The whole scenario seemed frivolous and implausible to Raven--if Janmu’s mother preferred the politician, she should have married him instead.

A wide bay came into view as they made their way past a rock outcropping. Whereas their ride along the peninsula had taken them across narrow pebble beaches abutted by the ridge’s steep slopes, the beach at the end of the bay was a flat plain of pebbles and loose gravel, criss-crossed with small, winding streams. The beach came to an end several dozen meters inland at a long wall of ice--the white floor of the valley was apparently a glacier, which reached its terminus here. 

“Janmu,” Raven said, interrupting an anecdote about his father throwing a newspaper at him, “see that glacier ahead?”

“Uh, the giant hundred-meter-tall wall of ice that we are absolutely not going to climb? Yes?” he replied.

“That’s the one,” she confirmed. “The Grimm are on that glacier. Let’s have some quiet while we make our way past it. Last thing we want is a thousand Grimm coming down on our heads.”

Janmu’s cheerful expression faded as the blood drained from his face. “Oh. Right,” he said. 

Raven winced internally; it hurt to see Janmu this broken. Throughout their journey, he had met dangerous and tense moments willingly, despite his obvious fear, and had mostly managed to maintain his sense of wit. For all that she thought his jokes and stories idiotic, she appreciated his drive to press onward, and she recognized that he had been relying on his humor. She shook her head; the poor boy didn’t deserve to be plunged into the middle of Ozpin and Salem’s war. But right now they needed to survive. She urged the cerneaf onward.

They rode in silence for the length of the peninsula, the only sounds the crashing of the waves, the cries of the birds overhead, and the gentle clop and patter of the cerneaf’s hooves and Petunia’s paws. As they reached the icy face of the glacier, Raven could not help but shiver. Her cloak of woven reeds added quite a bit of insulation, but a fiercely cold wind rushed down the icy wall from the glacial plain above. They kept close to the wall of ice as they pressed onward, as much to stay out of the bitter wind as to avoid detection.

They had crossed nearly half the beach when the hairs on the back of Raven’s neck began standing on end. She realized suddenly that all she could hear was the crash of the surf and the sounds the two of them were making as they advanced. She stopped the cerneaf, and started scanning for threats. Janmu, a few meters ahead atop Petunia, realized Raven was falling behind. He stopped Petunia and turned back to Raven.

“Raven? What’s wrong” he asked.

“Shhhh,” Raven said. “Listen. What do you hear?”

Janmu listened for a few seconds, and said, “Nothing. Just the waves.”

“Exactly,” Raven said, drawing her sword. “There were birds a moment ago. Something’s here.” She and the cerneaf backed up to the icy protection of the glacier, and she looked to the horizon in either direction. Maybe a threat from the sea? She knew there were some very large marine Grimm this far North. But there was no obvious disturbance in the water.

A small piece of ice bounced off of Raven’s shoulder, and she turned to look up the uneven wall of the glacier. The large head of a teryx stared down at them, cocked to one side, giving them a full view of its large, glowing red eye. The top half of its skull was a single piece of icy bone, a row of holes in front of the eye socket revealing the inky black flesh underneath. The teryx slammed a taloned claw into the ice of the wall, then another, sending showers of icy fragments tumbling down on Raven and Janmu, as it began advancing down the face of the glacier.

As it climbed over the edge, Raven and Janmu began urging Petunia and the cerneaf away from the wall. The teryx turned its head to the other side, the red-veined black leather of its wings quivering in the wind as it held onto the ice. The large mass of icy bristles emerging from the back of its neck rustled with a loud clattering sound, and it opened its mouth wide, revealing several rows of sharp teeth and letting out an ear-piercing screech. 

“Back! Get back!” Raven yelled to Janmu, urging the cerneaf to withdraw towards the water as the teryx launched itself from the precipice, leaping from one icy crag to another, until it landed with a heavy clatter on the beach before them.

“Spread out,” Raven said. “It can only attack one of us at a time.”

“Are you crazy?” Janmu called over, raising his voice over the surf as Raven and the cerneaf backed away. “What if that one of us is me?”

“Then I’ll be free to attack it!” Raven replied. “Besides--you have that hatchet!”

“For the record I don’t like this plan but I recognize I have no say in it!” Janmu yelled back.

As they drew apart, the teryx swung its head back and forth between Raven and Janmu, unsure of who to attack first. Finally, it settled on Janmu and Petunia, and took a few scrabbling steps toward them. 

“ _ Now! _ ” Raven hissed to the cerneaf, drawing up one foot beneath her, and bracing against the cerneaf’s back. The cerneaf lunged forward toward the teryx, and Raven launched herself into the air. At the same time, the teryx lunged forward at Janmu and Petunia, who leapt to the side. Janmu swiped at the teryx’s bony head with his hatchet, but it clattered harmlessly off its skull as its jaws snapped shut in the air where he had been just a moment before. 

  
Raven rolled as she vaulted over the creature’s wings, her blade carving wide gashes in the thin, leathery flesh, and landed on its back. The teryx craned its head back, one wild eye searching, trying to see what had injured it. It let out another ear-shattering scream, and shook its shoulders in an attempt to dislodge Raven. She pulled herself further up its back, and tried to swing her sword into its shoulder. As she swung, however, the teryx stamped its feet, and Raven momentarily lost her balance, her sword clattering harmlessly off an icy plate of armor. 

The teryx screamed again, and reared up onto its hind legs--Janmu had darted forward and landed a blow against the creature’s left foreleg with his hatchet. It looked down and lunged at Janmu and Petunia, jaws wide. The cerneaf stamped her feet, and a thick wall of tree bark shot up from the ground in front of Janmu and Petunia, knocking Janmu off his feet. The teryx’s jaws slammed into the unyielding bark with a loud crunch.

The teryx beat its enormous leathery wings and pressed its uninjured talon against the tree bark, attempting to free its teeth from the wood. The bark crumbled as the cerneaf backed away, and the teryx lost its balance, stumbling and rolling onto its side, one wing pinned beneath its scaly body. Raven plunged her sword into the opposite shoulder as the teryx tumbled over, and used it to vault up and over the other wing. The teryx crashed heavily onto its back, throwing up a small shower of pebbles.

Raven saw her opportunity, darted forward, and plunged her blade into the exposed underside of the thrashing creature’s neck, burying it to the hilt. The Grimm gave one last gurgling cry, then fell to ash.

Raven picked herself up and dusted herself off. “Well now,” she said to Janmu, who stood in shocked silence, staring at her. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You did well!”

“Buh,” he said, pointing at the glacier behind her. She turned. Four more teryxes were looking down at them from the edge of the ice sheet. As she watched, three began clambering down the ice face, and the fourth launched itself into the air, flying out over the water.

“Fuck,” she swore. “Okay,” she said, pointing at Janmu. “You’re going to have to pull your weight with these. Petunia too. Remember to mind your balance and your weapon. If you end up with your own hatchet buried in your leg, that’s on you.” She turned and vaulted onto the back of the cerneaf as it galloped past her toward the glacier.

The first of the new teryxes crashed down onto the beach directly in front of her, and reared up on its hind legs, exposing its underside, hints of red between the black scales glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. Large blocks of ice formed armored plates over its shoulders, limiting Raven’s options for a quick kill. Raven leapt from the cerneaf’s back, aiming for one of the plates. She hit heavily, driving her sword into the ice, and heard a crunch next to her as the cerneaf rammed its antlers into the other icy plate. Their combined force knocked the teryx backwards off its feet, pinning it against the glacier. 

“Got you now, you scaly bastard,” Raven muttered, and yanked on her sword. But it wouldn’t budge, and the teryx’s bony jaws swooped down and closed around her. The creature yanked violently, shattering the blade of Raven’s sword and throwing her into the air. She swore, and transformed into her corvid form, flapping her wings desperately to regain aerial control. As the teryx turned its attention to the cerneaf that was now relentlessly assailing it with its antlers, she beat her wings and shot forward. As she reached the teryx, she folded her wings close to her body, and entered a steep dive aimed at the teryx’s head. Midway through her dive, she transformed back into her human form. She slammed feet-first into the teryx’s upper jaw as it lunged for the cerneaf, bearing it down onto the hard stones of the beach.

Raven rolled away on impact, and placed the handle of her broken sword on the sheath hanging at her side, feeling a new blade click into place. The teryx lifted its head up off the ground and roared at her, its maw opening wide enough to swallow her whole, revealing serrated teeth the length of her forearm. She considered trying to stab it through the back of the mouth, but decided that was a good way to get impaled if it bit down before she had killed it. Her Aura had protected her from the first bite, but with at least three more teryxes to fight after this one, she couldn’t risk taking a hit like that. Instead, she backed away, the cerneaf retreating beside her. 

As she reached Janmu, shaking on his feet where she had left him, the other two teryxes crashed down onto the pebbles. A loud splash behind them told her that the fourth teryx, which had flown out over the bay, had landed in the shallows just behind them. 

Raven looked over at Janmu. “Hey,” she said. “Your stance is too wide. Feet a little closer. And don’t hold your hands so close together on the shaft,” she said, nodding towards his axe. “You want to be able to move your hand down the shaft to extend the swing.”

Janmu nodded, and gulped. “You, uh, you did a thing back there,” he said, nervously eyeing the slowly-approaching teryxes.

“I did many things,” she said, her hand on her sword hilt, ready for the first strike.

The three teryxes on shore had begun to fan out, their heads low to the ground, icy bristles knocking together loudly. Raven kept her eyes on the two nearest her as the teryxes slowly surrounded them. She drew her sword and waved it threateningly at them. Its red blade glinted in the sun, startling the nearest teryx. It took a hesitant step away from Raven--an apparently older Grimm that had developed a survival instinct. 

Raven felt a slight touch at her back as Janmu backed up into her. Petunia growled softly beside him, and the cerneaf pawed the ground nervously. Raven reached back and lightly touched Janmu’s arm.

“Hey,” she said. “We got this.” 

“Mmm,” he said, then lapsed into a brief, tense silence. “Hey, uh,” he said, quietly. “You, uh. You turned into a bird.”

“I do that sometimes,” she replied.

“Oh. Okay. Cool,” Janmu said, nodding vigorously to himself. 

“I’m sorry,” Janmu said, turning to her. “Have you always been able to turn into a bird?”

“Janmu, FOCUS!” she screamed at him, as the teryx behind him lunged forward, its bony teeth gleaming as its mouth opened, ready to kill. Janmu quickly sidestepped the attack, and Raven rolled forward out of the way. As she rose out of the roll, she swept her blade in a wide arc at the other teryxes, which had seen an opportunity and stepped toward the group. She glanced behind her and saw Janmu swing his axe up, carving a deep gash in the attacking Grimm’s lower jaw as its momentum carried it past him. 

The teryx reared back, angling its head to keep the wound away from Janmu. Raven’s jaw dropped, shocked not only at the stupidity of losing focus, but even more by Janmu’s sudden ability to fight.

“Janmu,” Raven said, “I’m impressed. That was competent.”

Janmu looked down at his axe, bouncing the head against his hand. “Huh,” he said. “You’re right, that was pretty cool! You know, what’s funny is I wasn’t even paying attention!”

Raven glared at him. “Yeah. That was dumb. Don’t do that again,” she scolded.

Janmu turned back to the two teryxes closest to him. “Alright, who’s next?” he asked, hefting his axe. The injured teryx turned its head sharply at his words, and took several steps toward him, its icy bristles clattering menacingly. It drew up over him, flapping its red leathery wings to maintain balance, and roared down at him.

“Uh, Raven?” Janmu said, beginning to lower himself into a crouch. “What do I do?”

Raven looked away from the other two teryxes menacing her and the cerneaf, saw his predicament, and yelled, “Dodge, you idiot!”

Janmu screamed as the teryx folded its wings and pounced, its enormous talons bearing down at him. He turned and covered his head with hands, but the blow never came--Petunia stood over him, the creature’s claw held back by her front paws. Petunia screeched, and a white glow rippled through her fur from her tail to her nose. As it reached her paws, Petunia pushed, and with a loud  _ crack _ , the teryx was launched backwards into the air. It landed heavily on a jagged boulder emerging from the surf, and dissipated in a cloud of black smoke.

Raven heard a flurry of movement from the cerneaf beside her, and turned back to see both teryxes advancing on them. The cerneaf was stamping furiously at the ground, causing woody vines to shoot furiously from the ground and twine around the teryxes’ legs. As they advanced, however, they simply ripped the vines from the loose pebbles of the beach. Raven leapt to the side as a teryx shot forward to bite, slashing with her blade as she dodged. The blade carved through several large teeth, as the cerneaf beat back its own attacker with a heavy blow from its antlers.

Raven took the half-second afforded by the teryxes’ brief retreat to glance back at Janmu. He was still cowering on the ground. Petunia stood between him and the remaining teryx, growling and slapping her paws against the ground.

“What happened?” she demanded, turning back to the two teryxes menacing her and the cerneaf.

“I felt good about that one hit and then I looked up at it and it was  _ scary! _ ” he said.

Raven sighed, as she parried a swipe of a teryx’s talons with her sword. He had been so close to fighting with even a semblance of confidence. If only he hadn’t stopped to think.

An idea struck Raven as she rolled forward under the swipe of the teryx’s claws and severed the limb. “Janmu!” she shouted to him, as she leapt up at the creature’s flailing head. “You said you weren’t paying attention! That’s it! You weren’t thinking about being in danger!”

“What?” he yelled back.

“You need to distract yourself! Your body knows how to fight, so you need to let it! What would take your mind off the danger?” Raven asked, as she hooked a hand into one of the nasal sockets in the teryx’s skull and swung around onto the back of its head.

Janmu began laughing, and pulled himself to his feet.

“Are you going to laugh, or are you going to fight?” Raven demanded, as she drove her sword through the eye socket of the thrashing teryx’s head. 

“I’m going to do both!” Janmu replied, breaking into a run directly at the remaining teryx.

“You’re going to what?” Raven demanded, as she landed on the ground through the dissipating mist of the Grimm. She strained through the haze to see what he could be doing.

“Hey, ya big chicken!” Janmu yelled. 

Raven pushed through the last wisps of ashy smoke and punched aside the head of the teryx attacking the cerneaf, then looked over at Janmu. He was waving his axe wildly at his remaining attacker. The teryx tilted its head at him, and took a step forward.

“Hey Petunia,” he said to the tateru, swinging his axe up to rest on his shoulder. She lifted an ear in response. “You know they told me in school, they told us that if a Grimm attacked,” he paused as the teryx lunged forward, and with a delicate pirouette swung the blunt side of the axe into the Grimm’s head with a loud  _ thwack _ , “you should throw something. Like, away from you.” The teryx screeched, and Janmu knelt and picked up a smooth, water-worn stone. 

Raven drove her sword through the wing of her own teryx and drove the blade into the beach. She felt the cerneaf’s roots grasp the blade, pinning the teryx. As the teryx turned its head to remove her, she swung from the sword handle and drove her feet in the Grimm’s snout, pushing it back toward the cerneaf. The cerneaf reared, and slammed its hooves into the beast’s head, bearing it down onto the rocks of the beach. 

“They said throw something away from you,” Jammu continued, “as if the Grimm, a creature attracted to negative emotions,” he paused to wind his arm back, “would find the rock, an inanimate object, more interesting than you, a ball of anxiety.” Jammu hurled the rock at the teryx, knocking its head to the side. “I mean, how messed up is that?”

Raven kept one foot on the teryx’s head, pressing it into the ground, as the cerneaf landed blow after blow on its neck. Vines burst from the ground and began twining through the cavities in the teryx’s bony skull, holding it even more firmly in place. Raven reached behind its head and snapped off one of the icy bristles, flipped it around in her hands, and with a grunt drove it through a gap in the armor protecting the Grimm’s head. The teryx slumped to the ground and burst in a cloud of black ash. 

Janmu was still talking to Petunia as Raven pulled her sword from the ground and began running toward him. Although Petunia looked vaguely confused by Janmu’s shift in disposition, both of them were managing to fend off the final teryx’s swipes and lunges. 

The teryx saw Raven approaching, and turned and swept its tail at the four of them, sending pebbles flying as the icy spikes on the end of the heavily-armored tail dragged across the beach. Raven and the cerneaf easily leapt over the tail as it passed, but Petunia squealed and Janmu yelped as it slammed into them and sent them flying towards the glacier. Janmu landed hard on his back with a grunt, and Petunia rolled and bounced as she hit the ground before sliding to a stop in a shower of pebbles. 

Raven nodded to the cerneaf, who ran towards Janmu and Petunia, its antlers emitting a bright green glow. Raven darted toward the teryx, bringing her blade across in a rapid slash as she passed its front leg. Feeling no resistance, she looked back to see that the Grimm had somehow dodged the attack, and was turning around. Raven dove aside as the teryx’s open mouth rammed into the beach where she had stood, and quickly rolled onto her feet. The teryx immediately attacked again, slashing at her with its claws, then lunged into another bite. Raven darted away from each attack, drawing the creature away from the cerneaf, Janmu, and Petunia with each advance. 

Icy water washed over Raven’s boots, and she knew that she could retreat no further. The teryx screeched and dovefor her once more, its enormous sharp claws searching for their prey. 

Raven transformed into her bird form, the claws closed around empty air, and Raven shot upwards towards the Grimm’s head, flapping furiously. She wheeled and banked around the Grimm’s head, cawing madly to keep its attention. The teryx whipped its head back and forth, trying to keep Raven in view. Raven flew behind its head and transformed back into her human form, dropping onto its shoulders. She drew her sword and slashed down through its right wing, carving a huge gash. The Grimm craned its head back, trying to see its attacker. Raven swung her sword forward, but the teryx bit down on the blade, shattering it. 

Raven brought the hilt back to the sheath to attach a new blade as the teryx began turning, seeking out its assailant. As its head swung toward her once more, Raven leaned forward from its shoulders and punched into its eye socket, feeling the inky flesh give way beneath her fist as it passed through the glowing red orb of the teryx’s eye. The teryx screamed in pain, and began running blindly, shaking its head wildly. Raven craned over the beast’s shoulders, and saw that it was headed directly for the foot of the glacier, where Petunia, Janmu, and the cerneaf were huddled.

With Raven out of sight and its distress ebbing, the teryx’s attention shifted to the fresh quarry directly ahead. It broke into a sprint, its large theropod hind legs sending beach pebbles flying with each stride. Raven gripped the icy bristles on its neck, trying desperately to hold on as it crossed the beach in several enormous bounds. Past the creature’s head she could just barely see the cerneaf standing over Janmu and Petunia, a chartreuse glow suffusing through their Auras. A wave of icy dread filled Raven, and she desperately reached for the cerneaf’s Aura with her own.

The teryx lunged into the air as it closed on its prey, wings spread wide. The cerneaf’s head whipped around, and it slammed a single hoof into the ground. Raven leapt from the Grimm’s back, and a thick column of tree bark shot out from the ground. It punched through the teryx’s chest with a loud splintering sound, and it disintegrated into dust.

Raven’s momentum sent her sailing through the air, and she skidded to a stop just a few feet from the glacier. 

“You okay?” she asked Janmu.

Janmu looked up at her and nodded. “Better now,” he said. Petunia was sitting upright next to him, and snuffled in agreement.

A scrabbling sound from above drew their attention up the icy face of the glacier. Several sabyrs were attempting to navigate their way down the sheer wall, enormous icy fangs and bony armor shining in the sunlight. As they watched, one of the sabyrs slipped and tumbled from its perch, bouncing off of several icy outcroppings on its way down, before slamming heavily into the ground in front of them.

Janmu rose to his feet and walked over to the enormous cat-like Grimm as it struggled to get up. “You know,” he said to Raven with a frown, “I’m more of a dog person.” He swung his axe in a wide arc and buried it in the sabyr’s neck, in the gap between two ice-covered armor plates. The Grimm collapsed back onto the beach, and evaporated in a puff of ash that was quickly dispersed by the wind pouring off the glacier.

“I’m still not sure what’s going on with you, but I’ll take it,” Raven said, shaking her head. “Now come on, we need to get out of here.”

“What about the other Grimm?” Janmu asked, pointing up the glacier. “We’ve been down the whole Grimm hot pursuit road before.”

Raven looked over to the cerneaf, locking eyes with it. The cerneaf’s ears twitched and it gave a slight bow of its head. “Not gonna be a problem,” she said. “Now let’s move!” She broke into a sprint towards the far end of the beach, where the glacier met the far ridge, with Janmu and Petunia hot on her heels.

Behind them, the cerneaf backed up to the water’s edge, and its leafy fur began rustling and glowing with a greenish light. It pawed at the pebbles beneath its hooves, and then charged.

Raven had never seen a creature move so fast. The cerneaf shot across the beach, leaving a wake of airborne gravel expanding behind it. It lowered its head and rammed its antlers directly into the ice face of the glacier, and a blinding pulse of green light, rippled out through the milky teal ice. The cerneaf pulled its antlers from the cracks they had gouged in the ice, turned, and began galloping down the beach. Behind it, the cracks in the ice rapidly spread through the glacier.

“Go go go!” Raven shouted, vaulting up onto the cerneaf’s back as it reached them. Janmu followed suit onto Petunia, and they tore across the beach toward the ridge.

They had just made it to the edge of the ice sheet when they heard an ear-splitting boom behind them. Raven looked back, and saw an enormous cloud of steam and ice crystals billowing out from the cracks in the ice. Enormous fragments of ice began tumbling down the glacier’s face, carrying the Grimm with them as the ice sheet began to collapse. 

A deafening roar filled the valley as millions of tons of ice slid inexorably into the sea, throwing up a towering wall of water that rushed out into the bay. 

A cacophony of shrieks and screeches filled the air as Raven and Jamnu rode their temtem along the edge of the bay, trying to distance themselves from the deadly river of ice. Raven looked up, and saw a black cloud of winged Grimm filling the air above the collapsing glacier, flying out to the bay.

“We need to hide!” she shouted to Janmu.

“What about over there?” Janmu yelled back, pointing to a spot ahead where the jagged rock face of the ridge jutted out into the water. Raven strained to see what he was pointing to. A spray of white water burst from the rock, and Raven realized there was a narrow crack, perhaps just large enough for the both of them.

They would be thoroughly soaked--Raven shivered just thinking of it. But it would be hard for the Grimm to spot them. She turned the cerneaf toward the crevice .

They reached the rock, urged their temtem back into their crystalline cards, and carefully climbed into the crevice. It was a tight fit--they were pressed up against one another, but at least that made it easy to brace against the sides and stay above the water between waves. As a wave filled the crevice and icy water welled up into her clothes, Raven reflected that this was quite possibly the worst experience she’d had on this journey. She was cold, wet, tired, and thoroughly uncomfortable, and if she survived, it would only be to face Salem's army and a fight she knew she couldn't win.

She shuddered at a manticore’s screech as it passed overhead, and Raven felt herself fill with dread and despair. They had come so far, and were so close. But though they had tried to evade detection, the fight on the beach and the power unleashed by the cerneaf, had surely alerted Salem or her lieutenants to their presence. The Grimm circling overhead were hunting them, she was sure. 

Raven gulped. If she couldn’t rein in her emotions, they would be found quickly. She glanced at Janmu, feeling his body shiver against her own. His eyes were shut tight, his mouth in a tight grimace. He had to be at least as unhappy as she was.

“Hey. Janmu,” she said softly. “Tell me a story.”

“What? You want a story now?” he muttered. “When we’re about to die, cold and wet?”

“They won’t find us if we’re distracted. Remember how you did better when you weren’t paying attention?”

“It wasn’t that I wasn’t paying attention,” he muttered. “It was the jokes. If I told a joke, I felt confident, and then things happened.”

“Then do that--tell me a funny story,” Raven said quietly. “Make me laugh. We both need to not feel sad right now, and you’re the only one who can make that happen.”

Janmu opened his steel-blue eyes and looked at Raven. “You...you really want me to tell you jokes? And...you’ll find them funny?”

Raven nodded. “I promise,” she said.

Janmu grinned. “Well alright then,” he said. He paused as a wave crashed into the crevice and washed past their faces. He sputtered a bit, then began again. “So this one time, I was walking down the street, on West 12th Street. I was walking down the street, I was walking towards this guy. He’s walking toward me, he’s on his scroll....”

Janmu’s story washed over her, and Raven found herself chuckling. She didn’t understand why--nothing about the story was particularly funny in and of itself. But something about Janmu’s delivery, his attitude about the situation--it made her laugh. She leaned her head into his shoulder as he continued the story, and noticed he had stopped shivering. She opened her eyes, and saw that a faint blue light had spread across his body--his Aura was glowing. Raven’s breath hitched, and she pulled him closer as warmth spread over her. She sighed with pride, and closed her eyes once more. 

Janmu kept talking, weaving story after story, filling them both with mirth. Finally, the screeches overhead had died away, and Janmu had made it through several entire stories without any sound or sight of their Grimm pursuers. The sky above had taken on a slightly pink tinge--several hours had passed.

“Okay, Janmu,” Raven said. “I think we’re safe for now. Let’s get out of here and keep moving. We should be able to make it to the top of the ridge by nightfall.”

“Great idea,” Janmu said. “I was just about to run out of material and start improvising, and boy you do not want to see that.” 

Raven and Janmu carefully climbed out of the crevice, and hauled themselves up onto dry land. The sun had nearly set over the water, casting a warm orange glow on the rocks. The bay was filled with small ice floes that were slowly drifting out to sea, and all evidence of the beach was gone, replaced by a jagged jumble of ice extending out into the water. There were no Grimm in sight, although Raven thought she could spot some movement in the air far in the distance up the glacier, where the collapse had been less catastrophic. The cerneaf had managed to obliterate at least a mile of the Grimm encampment--it had been a risky move, but it had certainly paid off.

Raven shivered as the sea breeze blew through her wet clothes, and she pulled off her sodden reed cloak, so the clothes beneath might have a chance to dry in the sun. Beside her, Janmu was doing the same with his pieces of woven armor. 

They dumped the seawater out of their boots and shoes, laced them back up, and rose to their feet. Raven looked up at the climb ahead. Above them, the icy ridgetop blazed with the orange light of the setting sun. As they began climbing, Raven thought of what lay ahead--just a little longer, and then they would reach Atlas, and Yang. While Raven felt apprehensive about seeing Yang again, she also felt hope. Finally, all that lay between her and helping her daughter was a short walk. 

* * *

## Janmu's Field Notes

| 

### Tateru

Taterus are the best. They just are. There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise. They're _technically_ rodents, but I can assure you my dear Petunia is a person. Smart, loyal, and strong. When on their hind legs, maybe two and a half, three metres tall? The best friend you will ever have. I would literally die for Petunia. They're found everywhere; go make a tateru friend. I _promise_ it's worth it.  
---|---  
| 

### Cerneaf

This big fella is a cerneaf. It stands about two metres at the shoulder. Giant leaf-like antlers. They seem to spend a lot of time sunbathing. I've only ever seen one at a time; they always accompany a giant herd of deendres and sprioles. If I had to guess, I'd say a deendre develops into a cerneaf when it becomes the leader of the herd. The name "cerneaf" means "guardian". and I have to say, it lives up to the name. Scary, scary things. Do not approach. Mostly found in the Northern forests and on the edges of the tundra.


	11. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow and Clover enjoy a pleasant evening on the garden terrace, and as Raven and Janmu come within view of Atlas, the past catches up to Janmu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS HAVE CHANGED--please take a look before continuing. Some content in this chapter in particular may be upsetting for some readers.
> 
> Many thanks to [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) for their suggestions and feedback!

“Mind if I join you?”

Clover turned from the edge of the garden terrace. Qrow was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Clover smiled warmly.

“Hey, Qrow,” he said. “Come on out. It’s a lovely night.”

“Thanks,” Qrow replied, walking out into the night air. The air was clear, a multitude of stars shining steadily over Atlas. A few bands of low clouds were beginning to gather in the distant western sky, and the moon, a bright crescent, was climbing in the eastern sky. 

Clover took a deep breath, relishing the crisp, clean air. Qrow stepped gingerly over the flower bed lining the terrace, and perched on the edge, one leg dangling in the air.

“I’m surprised you found me here,” Clover said. “This terrace can be pretty hard to find.” The terrace’s low profile was one reason Clover often came here--he was usually guaranteed a brief moment of peaceful solitude, when he could temporarily forget about the troubles of the daytime and simply be present in the moment, enjoying the calm nights typical in Atlas.

Qrow shrugged. “A little bird told me you come out here most nights,” he said. 

Clover folded his arms over his chest. “A little bird, huh?” he asked. There were very few people who knew he frequented this terrace. Winter came to mind, but after their argument over Qrow, he had a hard time believing she would have been a willing informant. Still, there were few alternatives...perhaps this was her way of apologizing.

Qrow turned and smirked at Clover. “I know, right?” he replied. “Lucky me.”

Clover chuckled. “Well, I am glad you’re here. Wherever you got your information, it was correct--I do come out here a lot. It’s quiet, I like the flowers, and there’s a great view. Out here, I can pause, and take a breath. It helps me remember why I do my job,” he said, gesturing out at the city. “What it is I’m protecting.”

“It sure is nice,” Qrow agreed. 

Clover knelt and sat on the grass before the flowers. The soft petals rustled gently in the night air, their lavender color barely-discernible in the moonlight. Ahead of him, he noticed Qrow’s feathery tufts of hair waving similarly in the breeze. He smiled, admiring the cut of the man’s shoulders, and the way his relaxed yet angular pose mirrored the skylines of the two cities down below--the graceful curves of Atlas’s domes and spires, and the sturdy square buildings of Mantle. For all that Qrow railed against the formalities and customs of Atlas, here, tonight, the city seemed to suit him. Clover sighed happily. He was pleased to find that bringing Qrow into this space didn’t induce any anxiety, but instead made it even more relaxing.

They sat in silence, as Qrow gazed out at the city, and Clover gazed at Qrow. 

After some time had passed, Clover remembered his conversation with Ironwood earlier that evening.

“So I talked to General Ironwood,” Clover said. “About taking the night off tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?” Qrow asked, looking at Clover over his shoulder. “What did Jimmy say?”

“It took a tiny amount of convincing, but you’ve got yourself a date,” Clover replied, breaking into a grin.

“Hey, that’s great,” Qrow said, smiling in return. “Have you told the kids yet?”

“Not yet. General Ironwood and I are telling them tomorrow morning after their training session. Not everyone is off-duty--some of the Ace-Ops will help the election campaigns with security. But the kids are free, and you and I are free,” Clover said.

“I’m just warning you,” Qrow said, looking back out to the city. “I didn’t bring any clothes fancier than these. Don’t expect me to wear a tuxedo if you take me to some crazy expensive Atlas restaurant.”

Clover laughed. “That’s not really my style, to be honest.” Qrow turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “I may like the uniform and the formality of the military,” Clover explained, “but when it comes to food, I find that means small portion sizes and stuck-up waiters. I prefer the small, family-owned places. Where I can get to know the owner.”

Qrow nodded. “Like the sushi place.”

“Like the sushi place,” Clover confirmed. “That said, do you have any preferences regarding where we go, what we do?”

Qrow swung his leg back over the edge and sat facing Clover. “I dunno,” he replied. “What would you have done, on a night off, back before we showed up--before all this craziness with Salem started?”

Clover scratched his head. “Well,” he said, “up until a few months ago I would have gone to this little bar in Mantle called the Rusty Screw. Decent beer, and pretty good fish and chips. For a while, there was a young man who would bring his own microphone, stand up, and tell jokes and funny stories. The bartender allowed it because people would buy more drinks while he was talking.”

Qrow frowned. “I take it he stopped?” he asked.

Clover sighed. “They weren’t buying drinks because they liked his jokes. I thought he was pretty funny, personally. But something about his humor didn’t click with the other patrons. So one day, after a particularly rough set, I bought him a drink, and suggested that maybe it was the audience, not the jokes. I told him I thought he was pretty funny, and if more people in the audience were like me, they’d appreciate his humor too. That was the last time I saw him there. Work with the Ace-Ops got busy, and I didn’t go for a while, and then when I went back a few weeks ago, he wasn’t there. The bartender said he’d enlisted in the military a few days after our conversation. Apparently I’d had a big influence on him.”

“Wow,” Qrow said. “You’d think it’d take more than a bad joke to get a guy to sign up. But hey, does this mean he’s telling jokes in some mess hall?”

“That was my hope,” Clover said. “I put in some calls, tried to track him down. I figured if I got him into this mess, I should keep an eye on him, make sure he had someone watching out for his well-being, that sort of thing.”

Clover sighed, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. “I was too late. It turns out he was assigned to a long-haul supply flight a while back. The airship never returned--they believe it went down outside radar range, and it’s presumed that everyone on board is dead. Even if someone survived the crash, out there in the wilderness, alone and without protection, or rations…the military doesn’t believe they’d last long.”

“Clover, I’m really sorry,” Qrow said, his eyes wide with concern. “That’s really awful.”

Clover took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is. Part of me wonders, if I hadn’t tried to comfort him that night, if I’d just kept to myself, or, I don’t know, phrased it differently...maybe he’d still be telling jokes in Mantle bars. Or if I’d taken the time to go back to the Rusty Screw sooner, I could have then found him and gotten him reassigned to something safer, before he got put on that mission.”

Qrow got up, stepped over the flowers, and sat next to Clover, draping an arm around his shoulders. “Sometimes bad things happen,” he said. “Sometimes it’s because of a decision you made. Sometimes it’s bad luck. And sometimes,” he said, gesturing to himself, “it’s a mix of both. I’ve got a lifetime of being told I was responsible for something I couldn’t control. And when it was someone else’s decision? Heh.” Qrow balled his hand into a fist. “Don’t ever let someone tell you you’re responsible for something bad that happened because of a decision someone else made.”

Clover leaned into Qrow’s shoulder. “I know, you’re right. I can’t beat myself up over it.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have signed up if you’d acted differently,” Qrow said. “But you didn’t, and he did. And ultimately it was this other guy’s decision about what to do with his life. All you can do is decide what to do next.”

“You know,” Clover said, looking up at Qrow. “For someone whose file mostly makes you out to be an uncooperative troublemaker, you give good advice. Those kids are lucky they have you.”

Qrow looked down at Clover, his eyes warm with affection. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Clover’s lips. Clover leaned up into Qrow’s embrace, lingering in the kiss even when Qrow began to draw back. “Thank you Clover,” Qrow said. “So since a comedy routine is off the table, any other ideas?”

Clover smiled up at him. “I’ll think of something,” he said.

~~~

Despite Raven’s earlier optimism about their pace, night fell well before they crested the ridge, and the moon cast an eerie blue light over the frozen landscape. Janmu looked up; the moon was a jagged crescent, the scattered fragments from its ancient catastrophe easily visible. He shivered in the cold night air--the reed armor that Raven had woven for him had not dried out, and instead had simply frozen solid into one solid lump. He couldn’t have worn it if he’d wanted to.

Janmu looked over at Raven as they climbed the final hundred meters. She showed no signs of fatigue--just an unbreakable determination. Janmu found he envied her--she had a clarity of purpose, and never seemed to have any doubt over whether she was in the right place. He supposed that explained her behavior at the campfire that night they’d first met. She knew he posed no threat, because she was Raven, and he was Janmu, and she always survived. Simple. Janmu sighed. He wondered what it was like to live with such simple clarity.

Finally, they reached the top of the ridge. Janmu leaned over with his hands on his knees, panting, while Raven stood beside him, looking out at the view before them. A wide icy expanse stretched into the distance, softly illuminated by moonlight. Almost disappearing into the darkness near the horizon was a soft orange and white glow--the lights of Atlas and Mantle. 

Janmu heaved a sigh of relief. It felt surreal to see his home in the distance--it had been so long since he had left it, and so much had changed. He had almost grown used to living out in the wild. The prospect of going back to city life almost seemed strange. As he gazed at the city lights in the distance, he felt a sudden and persistent vibration against his leg.

Janmu swatted at his pants, half-expecting to find some new kind of miniature Grimm. There was no Grimm, though--all he felt was his scroll in his pocket, buzzing incessantly. He had forgotten he had it--without Beacon’s communication tower, it was nearly useless beyond the range of Atlas transmitters. Cresting this ridge must have brought them in range. He pulled it out and opened it.

All of the updates and notifications of the last few weeks streamed across the screen. Taking top billing was a slew of news articles on topics he had flagged. He quickly skimmed the headlines--worsening economic conditions from the embargo, the election for the vacant Council seat was heating up, the vote was tomorrow, and Grimm attacks had been getting more and more frequent. Janmu wondered briefly if he could return home in time to cast a vote for Robyn Hill, then moved on. There were notifications from his bank, and a reminder from his landlord that his rent was due. And then a flood of personal messages. Janmu flagged the news articles and financial stuff for later, and pulled up the messages. There were hundreds.

Janmu sat on the ground, unable to look away from the blinding light of his screen. At first he didn’t know how to process all of the messages. Why were so many people trying to talk to him? He hadn’t been gone that long. He began thumbing through the individual messages.

The first was from a friend, sent late in the afternoon the day his airship had crashed. The friend had used his coffee break to send him a funny image. 

The second message was from the following day, from a friend he had made in the air fleet, wondering why he hadn’t shown up to the morning briefing.

Later that same day, a message from a woman he had met in basic training, demanding to know why he hadn’t shown up for their date. He felt a pang of guilt at that; in the aftermath of the crash, he had completely forgotten that he had had a date planned at all.

And then the messages ticked up in frequency. Messages from friends and acquaintances in the military who had been told that his ship had not returned. Asking if he was okay, if he was out there somewhere. And then fading to messages expressing disbelief that he was gone. 

Then came messages from friends outside the military. Acquaintances. Distant relatives. All checking in--and then expressing disappointment, disbelief, and despair. 

Janmu began swiping through the messages faster and faster, the blue glow of the scroll flickering across his face. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears, and he found his eyes would not focus on the messages before him.

They thought he was dead.

All of his friends, all of his acquaintances, his family--they all believed he was lost to them.

And what was more, Raven had been right. From the messages, he gleaned that there had been no rescue effort. The Atlas military had assumed that nobody would survive long enough to be rescued, and wouldn’t risk the resources to look for anyone who may have beaten the odds. He had been so focused on getting home, that he hadn’t stopped to think about the possibility or absence of a rescue effort. He now realized just how alone he had been on their journey: Raven was the only person in the world who knew that he was still alive. Everyone else believed he was dead--and was going through the process of grieving. The process of moving on. What would meet him when he returned to Mantle and Atlas? Was there still a place for him?

His hand shaking, Janmu swiped away the messages. They were replaced by a notification that he had unopened voice messages tagged as friends and family.

Janmu stared at the blue screen, trying to force his eyes to focus, trying to keep himself centered and in the present. 

Finally, he pressed play.

_ “Hey Janmu, it’s your buddy Nick. Haven’t heard from you for a few days. Hope you haven’t forgotten me with all those military pals of yours. Don’t forget to put in a good word for me if you meet anyone cute.” _

_ “Janmu? It’s your mother. I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. Do you need me to send you a care package? I can send you some of that chocolate you like, from the place on 7th. Give me a call.” _

_ “Janmu, dude. It’s Nick. Call me, you bastard.” _

_ “Janmu, this isn’t funny. Call me.” _

_ “Hi, um, Janmu, this is Julie Morales. I hope this is the right number. We went to school together, and I always thought you were sweet and funny, but I don’t think you remember me…anyway I heard from a friend that there’d been an accident, and well...if you’re out there, I hope you come home.” _

_ “Janmu, honey, please pick up. It’s your mother. Pick up the damn scroll. The people from the military keep telling me you’re not coming back, so I need you to pick up. They’re bringing me forms and I’m not signing a gods-damned thing while there’s a chance you’re out there.” _

_ “Janmu...it’s Nick. I dunno, man. They mentioned you briefly on the news tonight. Mantle boy goes down on a secretive mission for the military. Jacques Schnee used it to rant about how Ironwood can’t even keep his own soldiers safe, and he’s sending Mantle’s children to die. It’s kind of crazy, but he’s got a point. It’s starting to sink in that your ship didn’t just get lost or run out of fuel. If you’re out there, man...good luck. I hope you come home soon.” _

The next voice message was simply his mother weeping into her scroll. She cried for a long time.

_ “Janmu…<sniffle>...I miss you dude. It’s Nick. They’re saying that there’s increased Grimm activity these days. That even a trained Huntsman wouldn’t survive more than a week out there. I just…I can’t believe it. It’s like, just the other day we were walking along the edge of the Pit, dreaming about making it up to Atlas. I don’t know what I’m going to do, man. I miss you.” _

_ “I went to visit your friend Nick today. He was always such a nice boy. We sat together in his kitchen for a little while, and shared our favorite memories of you. It was nice. I….” _ his mother paused, a muffled sob punctuating the recorded silence.  _ “I miss you Janmu. And I love you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more. I’m sorry there wasn’t more for you. I’m sorry.” _

_ “Hi Janmu. It’s your mother. Today was hard. We held a funeral for you. It’s...you don’t realize how hard it’ll be, holding a funeral for someone who didn’t come home. What do you do? Do you bury an empty casket? We didn’t know. So there’s a stone for you. I guess it’ll have to do. I wish there was more.”  _ His mother was silent for some time. He heard a few sniffles, and the ruffle of a handkerchief.  _ “I miss you. I’ll try to convince your father to call later. He… he hasn’t been taking it well. You know how he is, how he doesn’t like to talk when something upsets him. He won’t stop talking about the news. It’s like the newspaper is all he has. I keep telling him that calling you helps. It helps to talk. To feel like you’re not completely gone. Anyway. I should hang up and get some work done. I love you.”  _

_ “Janmu? This is your father. I hope you get this message soon. The election’s on. That populist Robyn Hill is doing well. But Jacques Schnee is running a tough campaign, and we’ll see if Ms. Hill’s vigilantism holds up against his hard-nosed economics in the debate. Heh...then we’ll see which of us is right about the future of Atlas. Anyway… it’s been 10 days. I… aw, hell… Ellen? Ellen! This is stupid; I’m talking into a gods-damned piece of machinery as if I’m somehow talking to my son…. What? Yes, I know he’d receive it if he ever comes back, but you know what? He’s not coming back! He’s not coming back, Ellen! My son is dead. And he’s not coming back. And talking into this fucking stupid scroll is not going to bring him back! <click>” _

_ “Janmu. It’s your father. You know your mother. She’s as stubborn as they come. Never could tell her anything. Well, I guess she can tell me things. So here I am. Talking into thin air, on a scroll, to you. Hoping you’ll come back. Janmu, son… I miss you. And I love you. I know I didn’t tell you that enough. Truth is, I was always proud of you. And I was scared of messing it up. I wanted you to grow up to be strong, and independent, and caring, and funny, and a real gentleman. You know, someone who could make a life for himself. Maybe end up in Atlas, do what your mom and I couldn’t. But the truth is, I just wanted you to be okay. To be happy. And I was scared that you wouldn’t have everything you deserved, and you wouldn’t be happy….I was so relieved the day you told us you were enlisting. Finally, I thought, my son will have a career he can rely on, that can support a family. But, my boy….”  _ Janmu’s father began weeping into the recording, loud, violent sobs, punctuated by deep sniffles.  _ “My boy, my son...I wish you would have never taken that damn military job. If I’d just told you that I loved you, that it was okay if you wanted to spend your life telling jokes for pennies and a pint… I’d still have my son. Please. Please come back. I… I can’t.” _

The next message was from an unknown caller, several days later--but it had come from within the military’s network.

_ “Hi, uh, Janmu, this is Captain Clover Ebi. I used to listen to your comedy routine at the Rusty Screw. You may remember we talked a few months ago. I found out today that your airship was marked ‘presumed destroyed’, and that you were MIA, along with the rest of your squad. I just wanted to say, I hope you’re still out there, and I hope you make it home safe. I’m sorry this happened to you. Stay safe out there, Private.” _

All of the messages that followed were from Janmu’s mother. She called several times per day, at least at first--telling him about her errands, about conversations she had had with friends and coworkers, about the course on treaty law she was planning on teaching in the fall at the Academy, and what the pay might mean for her and his father. As time went on, her messages grew less frequent. Janmu sat on the cold ground, his tears slowly freezing on his cheeks, as he let his mother’s voice wash over him, with its down-to-business, matter-of-fact tone. He glanced over at a soft rustle beside him--at some point Raven had taken a seat next to him.

_ “Hi, Janmu. Today is three weeks since you left. Four and a half weeks since I last saw you. I think back to that moment, you know, the last time you stopped by for a visit. We had dinner. I made yams, and I burned the green beans. And we had salmon. You couldn’t stop cracking jokes, and your father could barely stop himself from laughing. And then you left. And we didn’t think anything of it, because you came by to visit so often. And then… you were gone, and that was it! No more! <sniffle> It’s funny how moments that seem so normal--so mundane, ordinary, and unremarkable--can end up being so important. I almost wish we had known then. But of course, then it wouldn’t have been such a pleasant, happy evening. But at least I would have hugged you tighter.” _

That was the last message his scroll had received. It had been sent nearly two weeks ago.

Janmu drew a shuddering breath and looked over at Raven. She had been watching him quietly, her cheeks glistening in the moonlight. She turned now, and opened her arms. Janmu leaned over, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. Her face felt wet against his neck, and as her strong arms held him against her shoulder, she took a deep, shuddering breath of her own. 

Janmu exhaled, and the exhale turned into a sob. And then another sob. And then he was weeping openly, without restraint, gasping for breath into the fabric of Raven’s dress. Raven held him close, one hand gently squeezing his shoulder, combing through his hair with the other. 

“My parents died when I was 23,” she whispered. “They were the tribe’s leaders. So my brother and I had to decide if we would come home, and lead the tribe, now that they were gone. Honor their memory, hold a proper ceremony, and pick up where they left off. He was so  _ mad _ at them. For who they were. For who they had raised him to be. He decided to stay away. So I knew I had to come home. The tribe needed someone. I had a little girl. She was such a small little thing. And I had a husband. A husband I loved, and who loved me. But I knew. I knew I couldn’t abandon my people. So I left. I left my daughter with Taiyang.” Raven let go of Janmu and turned, looking out over the icy plain between them and Atlas. 

“I swore that I wasn’t abandoning them. I had my semblance--I could visit them, and my brother, and my best friend Summer whenever I wanted. And if they were in danger--I told them I would use my semblance to come and save them, one time, no questions asked, and no need to ask me to come. I would know, and I would be there. And that way I could be there for my tribe, and also be there for my family.

“Taiyang remarried--he and Summer got together. That was okay,” she said to Janmu’s raised eyebrow, “I knew she’d always had a thing for him. And I was happy that he had someone who could be what I wasn’t. They had their own child together.” Raven smiled. “A sister for Yang.”

Raven drew a shaking breath. “Summer went missing a few years later. I knew she was gone right away, but Qrow and Tai were desperate. They scoured Remnant looking for her. They kept hoping that she was out there somewhere, that I was somehow wrong--she was as good a Huntress as any of us, so maybe she had survived somehow, or my semblance was wrong, or something. But the months kept coming, and there was no sign of her.” Raven sighed. “Summer has a small gravestone. No grave.”

Janmu reached over and took hold of Raven’s hand. “I’m sorry, Raven, I didn’t--”

“You didn’t know?” Raven snapped, instinctively pulling her hand away. “I didn’t tell you. I’m telling you now.”

“Why?” Janmu asked quietly. “Why tell me this now? I...Raven, how can I go into battle again, when all these people already think they’ve lost me? How can I go home, and then leave again, only to die?”

Raven sighed. She turned back to Janmu, picking up his hand in both of her own. “Do you remember when we met, how I took your shoelace?”

Janmu stared at her. “Now? You want to do the shoelace now? Yes, I remember when you stole my shoelace. Why did you steal my shoelace?”

“You were the only survivor of the crash. You were mostly unscathed. But you had just lost everything. Your friends, your superiors, your ride home...left alone, you were facing certain death. Of course, you had Petunia, but even so--your situation was hopeless.”

“So you thought the kind thing to do would be to take my shoelace,” Janmu said, flatly.

Raven shot him a sharp look. “I never claimed to be kind. I took your shoelace, because what do you do, when you’ve lost everything--and then the universe takes something more? Something trivial, but that nonetheless makes everything just a bit harder, when everything is already terrible? Some people, that’s it. They can’t handle that. But you? Do you remember what you did?”

Janmu smiled. “I made a new shoelace.”

“You didn’t even blink,” Raven said, smiling back. “You just adapted, and handled it. And focused on doing the next thing to get yourself home. What kind of person, when faced with the greatest loss of their life, potentially a fatal loss, responds to something like that by just shrugging, taking care of it, and moving on?”

“A stubborn idiot?” Janmu suggested.

“A strong idiot,” Raven replied. “You’re strong, Janmu. I took your shoelace to see if you had the strength to survive. And you do. That’s why I’m asking you to fight with me. That’s why I’m telling you about my past.”

Raven dropped her eyes, kneading Janmu’s knuckles with her fingers. “I’m telling you because….because I know what it’s like to lose family,” she said. “I’ve lost family over and over again. And it hurts. It hurts when you realize you’ll never see your parents again. It hurts when your brother turns his back on you, and your people, and decides he wants nothing to do with the family that raised you. It hurts when you leave behind the family you made for yourself, it hurts when your partner is murdered in front of you, it hurts when, in an instant, your best friend is taken from you, and it hurts when you find your daughter again, now that she’s an adult and a Huntress herself, and she tells you that it’s too late, that you’ve failed, and that you’re not family.”

Raven looked up, dropped Janmu’s hand, and grasped him by the shoulders. She looked him square in the eyes, her red irises burning with determination. “I’m here,” she said, “because I’ve lost. I’ve lost over and over again, but I survived, and I kept fighting. That loss you’re feeling right now? That loss your parents are feeling, the loss a mother feels for her child? That’s why we fight. Salem wants to take all of this away from us. You’re not Summer. You’re not dead. You can still go back to your parents. But if Salem wins, then  _ all _ of that--” she pointed to Atlas with a sweeping gesture, “--is lost. I can’t promise we’ll win. But we can try.”

Janmu looked into Raven’s eyes. They were fierce, and determined--as full of deadly fire as the day they had met. But they were also, he saw now, filled with desperation and grief. He took a deep breath.

“I’ll fight.”


	12. Election

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Janmu arrive in Mantle on Election night. While they settle in for their first night back in civilization, Qrow and Clover go on their second date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter, and not only did it take _way longer _than I expected, but I really can't thank enough[delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) for their help. Best beta-readers on the planet. And thank you to [BrianneABanana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrianneABanana/pseuds/BrianneABanana) for suggesting Brandy as the name for the bartender OC!__
> 
> __
> 
> ___  
> _There is no visual guide to the temtem in this chapter, because the species that shows up is actually not a real temtem species from the game--when I wrote this, no temtem existed of the type combination that I needed, so I made up my own. Hopefully the description suffices!_  
>  __ _

Qrow was standing at a mirror, fussing with his hair, when Clover arrived at his open door. He watched Qrow for a few moments, enjoying watching his struggle. Qrow was in his usual attire, which suited Clover just fine. The slim, dark waistcoat, blood-red cape, and muted yet elegant gray undershirt made for a sharp outfit, but it was functional as well. No part of the outfit was stiff, and Qrow had demonstrated several times just how nimble he could be while wearing it. It would be well-suited to their evening. And of course, Clover was also in his normal uniform; he liked the look of his white vest, of course, and he had yet to find a pair of trousers that were quite as flexible yet form-fitting.  After watching Qrow fuss for a few minutes, Clover rapped lightly on the door frame. 

“Hey Clover,” Qrow said, not looking away. He slicked back a tuft of his bangs, and tilted his head to admire the result. The tuft sprang back into its normal place on his forehead, and Qrow sighed.

“Ready to go?” Clover asked. “I promise you don’t need to worry about your hair.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Qrow sighed, grabbing Harbinger on his way out into the hallway.

“Great!” Clover said. He turned and set off down the hall, a light spring in his step. He turned to face Qrow as he walked, and said, “I was thinking we could grab some food from the mess hall, and bring it with us.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Clover,” he said, “I know I said I preferred not to go anywhere fancy on account of my clothes, but, and not to be rude or anything, I’m okay with something a bit fancier than the mess hall.”

Clover chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I think you’ll enjoy what I’ve got planned. But where we’re going, there are no restaurants, so we need to bring something, and I didn’t want to risk take-out. The mess hall food could be better, but I think it’ll do just fine as a packed picnic, especially if I’m sharing it with you,” he replied with a wink.

Qrow shook his head. “If you say so, Ebi,” he said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and strode forward, so that he was beside Clover as they walked.

“So,” Qrow said, looking at Clover out of the corner of his eye, “what kind of place are we going to, that you thought it’d be a special place to have a picnic? I’ve already seen your terrace, you know.”

Clover smiled at him. “Oh, you’ll see,” he said. “Someplace very few people know about. I used to go there on my weekends, back when I had weekends.” 

~~~

The walls of Mantle rose high above them, large sheets of corrugated metal set into the towering concrete structure, and coiled barbed wire along the tops. The metal sheets had begun to rust, and took on a vibrant reddish hue in the late afternoon sun. The city of Atlas towered high above in the sky, the immense floating city casting a long, deep shadow across the icy plain. The air between the two cities bustled with activity, as civilian and military air transports traveled back and forth between them.

Raven turned to Janmu as they approached the walls. “You okay?” she asked.

Janmu nodded, not looking away from the walls. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think so. It’s… it’s good to see my city again. Even though it’s a bit surreal to be back, it’s still home.”

Raven smiled, and placed her hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“You, out there, halt!”

Two men had appeared at the top of the wall, and were peering down at them. One had his hand outstretched, palm facing them. Raven placed her hands on her hips, sizing them up.

“State your purpose!” the man with the outstretched hand shouted.

“We’re travelers; let us in!” Raven replied.

“Ma’am, the borders of the Kingdom of Atlas are closed to all immigration!” called the other man.

“Do you see a transport behind us?” Raven asked, “Do you really think we just walked across the tundra hoping to fill out some paperwork and immigrate? Let us in, dammit!”

“You know she’s got a point, Tom,” the first man said to the other. “It’s pretty weird.”

“Shut up and follow the script, Fred,” the second man replied.

“I got this,” Janmu said quietly to Raven. He turned to the men on the wall and cupped his hands around his mouth. “My name is Private Janmu Laney, Atlas Air Fleet 8th Division,” he shouted, “and a citizen of Mantle! This is my travel companion, Raven! I will vouch for her!”

“Sir, can you provide any documentation to verify that claim?” the man apparently named Fred responded.

“My identification number is alpha-one-zero-zero-three-seven-manta-two!” Janmu replied.

Fred disappeared for a few moments, then returned. “Your ID checks out, sir, but we have it in our records here that Private Janmu Laney is dead!” he said.

“Uh, yeah,” Janmu replied. “My airship went down! I’ve been walking across Solitas the whole time! Now will you please let us in?”

“Negative, sir,” said Tom, “since Mr. Laney is deceased, we cannot verify that you’re really him!” 

Fred leaned over and whispered something in his ear. 

“No, I know we could run the biometrics,” Tom replied to Fred in a very-slightly quieter voice, “but we’d have to let them in first, and the rules say we don’t let nobody in if we can’t verify ID! Can’t just let in random men claiming to be dead folks! That’s how you get Grimm!”

“Oh, for the love of--” Raven said. “Listen here!” she shouted at the men. “This man survived a Nevermore attack and an airship crash, and then walked across all of Solitas with me just to get home. We’ve fought more Grimm than I can count, including just over that ridge back there in the distance! You might be up there on that wall, and us down here, but don’t think for a second that wall is protecting you! We’re not here to fight you, and we’re not here to make any trouble, but if I have to come up there and force you to let  _ your own missing soldier _ return home, don’t think for a second it won’t be easy!”

“Ma’am, is that a threat?” Tom asked.

“You’re damn right it is!” Raven replied, drawing her sword.

“Raven,” Janmu murmured.

“It’s fine,” she muttered in response, “they’re on wall duty and they’re just grunts; they’re not gonna start an actual fight on their own.”

Fred and Tom turned and huddled behind the edge of the wall. Snatches of urgent whispers drifted down to Raven and Janmu. They returned after a few moments. “Okay,” Fred called down. “We’re going to let you in for a follow-up interview to verify your claims, and if you really are Private Janmu Laney, to start the paperwork for reinstating your status as an active citizen. But ma’am, we do have to inform you that threats of violence are a punishable offense in Atlas! We are going to have to ask you to refrain from drawing your weapon while within our borders!”

Raven nodded, and turned to Janmu, as a gate at the base of the wall slid open.

“See?” she said. “Sometimes it just takes a little pressure.”

~~~

Clover led Qrow through the neighborhoods of Atlas, threading through the neatly-ordered streets of the floating city with ease. Walking wasn’t the fastest way to get to the edge, but the spot he had in mind was so inconspicuous that he doubted he’d be able to find it from the air. On foot, however, winding through the streets, he knew where he was going. He had walked this route many times before, on weekends and on sleepless nights.

Eventually they came to the edge of the city. The rows of polished buildings ended at the edge of a large, grassy field that gently sloped away towards the edge of the floating island a few hundred meters away. The setting sun bathed the field in golden light, each blade of grass sharply outlined by the long shadows of its neighbors.

“You brought me to an empty field?” Qrow asked, then shrugged. “I guess if you wanted to have a picnic, grassy fields are a rare commodity this far north. Lead the way.”

Clover chuckled. “Oh no, we’re not there yet. Past the field. Follow me!” he replied, setting out across the field. Flowering grasses waved gently in the wind, and small white butterflies fluttered into the air as he strode through the shin-high grass. 

“You’re not serious,” Qrow said behind him. Clover glanced back to see Qrow following reluctantly behind him, a look of concern on his face. “You want to go to the edge? With my semblance?”

Clover shot him a look. “I’m not too concerned--”

“--you should be--” Qrow muttered.

“--we have my semblance to balance yours,” Clover continued, “and besides, it’s not a sheer drop. It just looks like it is. We’ll be fine.”

Clover kept walking, picnic basket in hand. “You know,” he said to Qrow over his shoulder, “at some point we should talk about your semblance. If it’s at all like mine, it’s probably not as uncontrollable as you think. You don’t have to live your life in fear of hurting the people around you.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Qrow asked. “I’d like to enjoy our evening off.”

Clover winced internally. He had meant to be helpful--the last thing he wanted was to upset Qrow so early in their date. “Fair enough,” he said. 

Finally they arrived at the far edge of the field, where a simple chain-link fence stood between them and the edge. Past the fence, the ground dropped away sharply, a steep, jumbled mass of broken rocks that sloped away another hundred meters before terminating in empty air--the real edge. A few meters away from where they stood, a length of fence wavered gently in the breeze, betraying a small break.

“Over there,” Clover said, pointing. They walked over, and Clover pushed at the fence--it gave way enough that a person could slip through. “Here,” he said, handing the picnic basket to Qrow. “Hold this?”

Qrow took the basket and slipped the handle into the crook of his arm, as Clover slipped through the tear in the fence. Once Clover was through, he turned back to Qrow, and pulled the loose fence wide in invitation.

“You’re sure this is safe?” Qrow asked, eyeing the uneven terrain. “Those rocks aren’t going to tumble loose?”

“Perfectly safe,” Clover said with a wink. He reached through the gap in the fance and took the basket from Qrow as Qrow crouched down to slip through.

“Alright, then,” Qrow said, looking up and locking eyes with Clover. “I’ll trust you on this.”

Clover smiled, as Qrow began threading his way through the gap. It was a little surprising, Clover thought, that Qrow was being so safety-minded and cautious. Qrow was after all one of the best huntsmen in Remnant; he had been in situations far riskier than this.

“Oh!” Clover exclaimed, and reached over with the hand holding the basket. “Careful; your cloak is about to tear on the fence.” He gently plucked the red fabric away from the sharp ends, and the cloak fell away from the fence.

Qrow looked up at him gratefully. “Thanks,” he said. “That would have been unfortunate.”

“Not a problem!” Clover replied with a warm smile. 

Qrow straightened up once he was past the tear in the fence, and turned to Clover. “So I’m guessing next we climb down that,” he said, pointing at the rocks.

“You got it,” Clover said, throwing him another wink. “Not all the way, though. There’s a gap in the rocks about five meters down; the place I want to show you is through there.” Picnic basket in hand, he began to clamber down the rocks, stepping confidently from boulder to boulder. A short distance away, two larger rocks jutted out slightly from their surrounding fellows. Between them was a narrow crevice, and as Clover reached them, he could see that the crevice extended into the rock face beneath the boulders, twisting down into the darkness. He breathed a small sigh of relief--he had projected an air of confidence to Qrow, but the truth was that rocks could sometimes shift out here, from the force of the wind, storms, or animals. It was unlikely that they would be in danger tonight, and this spot had been stable for decades, but that could always change--there was always the risk that he would come back one day and this little crevice would be either gone or impassable. But today, his luck was holding.

Clover handed Qrow the picnic basket, knelt at the edge of the crack, and lowered himself in, feet first. Once the rock lip had reached his shoulders, he felt his toes brush the rock below. He tested his footing as he lowered himself slightly further, until he was satisfied it would still hold. 

Qrow passed the picnic basket to Clover through the hole, and Clover crouched down, one hand running along the smooth rock face next to him, until he found the lower lip of the tunnel’s ceiling. He lowered himself until his head just brushed the lip, and slid sideways away from the entrance. He was in a cramped, narrow tunnel; he was forced to crouch so that his head was nearly at his knees. His knees protested slightly at the abuse, but he knew that the tunnel would soon widen.

The soft slap of shoes on stone behind him told him that Qrow had dropped down through the hole, and Clover began crab-walking his way through the tunnel, feeling his way forward in the dark with his leading foot. Sure enough, before long the floor came to an end at a sharp ledge. Clover lowered himself carefully over the edge. Here, once his feet touched the surface below, he could stand straight without his head touching the ceiling. He pulled out his scroll and turned on the light, filling the tunnel with a diffuse white light.

Now, with the bright light of his scroll washing over the stone surfaces, he could see the familiar glittering quartz seams cutting through the rock, the gently-sparkling spots of Dust, and the dark sheen of moisture in the spots where rain and snowmelt from the surface seeped through. Here and there, mats of molds and bacteria plastered the stone surfaces, thriving in the cool, damp air. 

“Well then,” Qrow breathed, as he dropped down behind Clover. “There’s something you don’t see every day. How did you find this place?” he asked.

“Actually,” Clover said, “Winter found it. She apparently found it as a kid, when she needed to get away from her family and wanted someplace all to herself. She brought me here the first time we had a weekend off together. I’d had a rough week, and she thought maybe I could benefit from the quiet solitude.”

“Winter, huh?” Qrow said. “She’d be okay with you bringing me here? You know she and I aren’t exactly best friends.”

“I’m aware,” Clover replied. “But I’ve been coming here so long at this point, it’s as much my space as it is hers. And I’d like to share it with you. Now come on,” he said. ”As pretty as these mineral seams are, this tunnel isn’t what I wanted to show you.”They continued down the tunnel; the way was mostly straight, occasionally turning slightly in one direction or the other, all the while gently sloping downward.

“How did Winter find this place, anyway?” Qrow asked. “As a kid, I mean. It’s a pretty unremarkable location; I would never have guessed it was here.”

Clover shrugged. “I never asked. I figured, the way the Schnee kids had it, it wasn’t my place to pry. But Winter tells me it’s not the only spot like this--the mountains around us were volcanoes once upon a time, and the rock below Mantle is full of cracks, tunnels, and caves where lava flowed or formed gas pockets. When Atlas was lifted into the sky, some of them were exposed.”

Eventually, the tunnel ahead appeared to turn sharply to the right and Clover stopped. He turned to Qrow, winked, and turned off his scroll’s light.

“Hey, uh, Cloves, you know I can’t see in the dark, right?” Qrow asked.

“Just wait a moment,” Clover replied, grinning in the darkness.

They stood there for a few minutes, letting their eyes adjust--and then, emerging from the darkness, they could see a soft green glow emanating from beyond the turn.

“What is that?” Qrow asked.

“Come see,” Clover said, his grin now reaching ear-to-ear. He grabbed Qrow’s hand, and hurried forward. 

As they rounded the corner, the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern, suffused with that same soft green light from brightly-glowing spires and mounds that emerged from the cavern floor. Thin glowing veins snaked out across the floor from several of the spires. The air in the cavern was busy with small airborne creatures fluttering back and forth, some perched on the ceiling and walls, others briefly alighting upon the spires before taking off again. On the floor, small furry spheres congregated near the bases of the spires, chittering softly. At the far end of the cavern, dim sunlight filtered through a small opening no more than a few metres wide.

Clover looked over at Qrow. The other man’s mouth hung open as he took in the sight.

“So? What do you think?” Clover asked.

“Wha--what is this place?” Qrow stammered. “What are those things?”

“This is a pohawai colony,” Clover explained. “They’re a flying temtem, distantly related to tuwais, like Temerity. They nest in caves in the mountains and cliffs of western Solitas, and have taken a liking to the tunnels beneath Atlas. The ones in the air are the adults, and the round things are the young ones.”

Qrow pointed to the spires. “And what about the glowing spike things?”

“Heh, well,” Clover chuckled, “the pohawai, they, uh, they always relieve themselves in the same spots. There’s a glowing green mold of some kind that feeds on their droppings. Then the young ones feed on the mold.”

Qrow looked down, saw one of the glowing veins rather close to his foot, and took a small step away. “Well, if it works for them….” he said. “If it’s all the same though, I’d rather not touch it myself.”

Clover laughed. “As far as I can tell, It’s harmless, but I completely understand. I try not to touch it myself, either. It does still leave stains. I thought we could have our dinner over there by the opening, though--there’s a view of Mantle, and I think we should be able to see the Moon, too. And there are fewer spires over there--they do their business further back in the cave. I assume so the young don’t fall off the edge.”

“You can’t be serious,” Qrow said.

“I’m a soldier, not a biologist,” Clover laughed, “so it’s only a guess. But I think it’s a pretty good one. The young ones aren’t the most aware of their surroundings.”

Sure enough, as they walked, picking their way around the spires and the glowing veins, their feet were nudged more than a few times by spherical temtem rolling blindly across the cave floor. They were quite small, no larger than a closed fist, and covered with a thin layer of grayish-brown fuzz. Had they been stationary, they would have simply appeared to be fuzzy round stones, not out-of-place in a cave system full of various molds and bacterial mats.

The glowing spires emerging from the floor thinned out as they approached the mouth of the cave, and Qrow and Clover were able to find a smooth, clean patch of stone on which to sit. From here they could see the deepening purple of the sky above Atlas, and far below, the deep shadows between the softly-illuminated red brick of Mantle. 

“I gotta hand it to you, Clover,” Qrow said, as they pulled sandwiches out of the basket, “this is a pretty incredible view. And as much as I don’t want to touch that green stuff, this cave is pretty cool. I would never have known these critters existed.”

Clover smiled--he had worried about the pohawai excrement, but he had hoped that the novelty would appeal to a huntsman who had seen the world--and he knew a nice view never hurt. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, unwrapping a sub sandwich he had assembled back at the mess hall. “You can see why I’d come here when I really needed to get away. And why Winter would too.”

“Heh, yeah,” Qrow laughed, unwrapping his own deli sandwich. “Can you imagine? Jacques Schnee, coming down here in one of those fancy-ass suits, trying to convince Winter to come home, and getting all that green gunk on him?”

Clover laughed, and formed his face into the closest Jacques Schnee approximation he could muster. “Young lady,” he said, his voice quivering, “you come home this instant! No, Winter--Winter, no! Put down the excrement; I am your father and I order you!”

Qrow roared with laughter, slapping his knee. Several nearby pohawai were startled by the outburst and fluttered out through the cave mouth. “Gods,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’d have gotten you away from everyone else sooner if I’d known you would let go like this!”

Clover smiled warmly in response. “Well,” he said, “I feel comfortable here, alone with you. I hardly think you’re going to report me, right?”

“Damn straight.”

“So there’s not much harm in a joke or two, between friends,” Clover said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Oh so we’re friends now, huh?” Qrow replied.

“Qrow,” Clover said, swallowing his bite before continuing, “we’ve kissed. I think friends is a given at this point.”

A dark look passed briefly over Qrow’s face. “Yeah, well, you’d think so,” he said. “Doesn’t always work out like that.” He looked up at Clover and forced a smile. “But yeah,” he said. “I like you, and I’m glad you feel comfortable with me. It’s nice to have a friend.”

Clover knew that Qrow had a painful past--but he was coming to suspect that a great deal more than poor self-esteem lay between Qrow and comfortable intimacy. He was about to ask if Qrow wanted to talk about it, but was interrupted when a pohawai fluttered through the air between them and landed on the picnic basket.

_ “Graa?” _ it croaked inquisitively, cocking its head first at Qrow, then at Clover. It was larger than the spherical young ones, but still relatively compact--it would have easily fit inside a day-pack. Its body shape was closest to a large songbird, except that in place of feathers, its wings seemed to consist of a leathery membrane stretched across its bony digits, and a bumpy, bony crest ran from the top of its head down the length of its back. Its body was covered in dense brown fur, and the crest was a solid slate grey--it almost appeared to be made of the same stone as the cave walls. 

The pohawai turned toward Qrow and took a cautious hop closer. Qrow held up his sandwich.

“Is this what you want?” he asked the creature.

In response, the pohawai fluttered into the air and landed in Qrow’s lap. As Qrow stared at it in surprise, it lunged forward and tore a large bite out of his sandwich with its rounded beak. It cocked its head up at him as it swallow _ ed. “Graooo?”  _ it croaked.

“ _ That was mine! _ ” Qrow exclaimed at the bird in his lap. Startled, it hopped back out of his lap, and fluttered off into the depths of the cave.

Qrow shook his head, as Clover laughed. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. 

~~~

Night had fallen by the time Raven and Janmu emerged from the administrative building, thoroughly exhausted from the endless interrogations and reams of paperwork.

“Well?” Raven asked. “Where to? Did you want to see your parents first?”

Janmu sighed. He knew he would have to see them eventually, and likely soon. But he also knew that doing so would be extremely emotional, and involve at least as many questions as they had just endured from the bureaucrats. 

“I…” he started. “Is it bad if I say no?”

Raven raised an eyebrow.

“Look, this is going to sound dumb,” he said, “but seeing my parents right now is going to be a lot. If I could, I’d keep my emotions all bottled up in here”--he pointed to his chest--”and then one day I’ll die.”

Raven chuckled. “You think I’d judge you for that?”

“Fair point,” Janmu responded. “I forgot who I was talking to. Let’s not see my parents just yet. What I do want, though, is food. After all that paperwork, I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.”

Raven smirked. “It’s been a long time for both of us since we’ve had real food cooked in a restaurant. What do you recommend, city-boy?”

Janmu hesitated. “Well,” he said, “the best place in town is the Rusty Screw. I used to go there all the time. But I dunno, someone might recognize me there, and then it might get awkward, and there could be emotions…but they do an excellent fish and chips.”

Raven clapped a hand on his shoulder. “If anyone threatens to get emotional with you, I’ll threaten them until they sit down. How about that? Fish and chips and no emotions.”

Janmu smiled. Having a friend like Raven had its benefits. “I think that sounds hilarious, and I’m in,” he said. “It’s not too far--follow me.” 

A short walk later, they had arrived at a pub just off a main street, nestled in the ground floor of one of Mantle’s many mid-rise buildings. A sign painted with an orange screw swung gently from the awning.

Janmu took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

The pub’s interior was dimly lit, but had a wide, spacious feel--a single large dining room filled with a multitude of small tables scattered across the floor. About half the tables were occupied, and the air was filled with the low murmur of conversation. A broad-shouldered woman stood behind the bar, polishing a large beer stein. Her sandy blonde hair flipped over one side of her head, exposing the shaved side, and she was focusing intently on the glass as Janmu walked in. She looked up however, as the door banged shut behind Raven. Her eyes went wide as she saw Janmu, and she slowly set the glass down.

Janmu felt his face flush as he noticed the bartender’s shocked gaze, and he gave a small, sheepish wave. She gestured at the empty bar stools before her, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I take it you know the bartender?” Raven asked. 

“Yeah, uh, that’s Brandy,” Janmu said, as he began making his way past the clusters of tables. “She owns the place. She, uh...wasn’t too happy when I enlisted and stopped spending half my weeknights in here. The most important lesson I learned the last time I was in here was that if you’re going to say something to piss off a bartender, like ‘I’m going to stop coming in here and spending all my money,’ don’t.”

“That should have been obvious, but at least you learned,” Raven replied. 

Brandy said nothing as they slid onto the stools. Janmu sat forward expectantly, but Brandy continued to lean against the back wall, staring silently at Janmu. 

Finally, Janmu could bear the awkwardness no more. He gulped. “So, uh, hey Brandy. Been a while,” he said.

Brandy continued to stare.

Janmu felt his ears grow even hotter. “I, uh,” he said, “I’m sorry I stopped coming in.”

“You’re a dead man,” she said, her voice flat. 

“Well hey now,” Janmu objected, “I know you liked my business, and the fact that my, uh. routines led other people to buy more drinks, but--”

“--I mean you’re literally supposed to be dead,” she interrupted. “It was in the local news.” She gestured to a screen hanging on the wall behind the bar, where a young Faunus was reporting on the election results as they came in.

Janmu cast a brief glance over at Raven. She was leaning on one elbow with an amused expression on her face, simply watching him and Brandy. “Yeah, uh, so about that,” Janmu began, “I’m not actually dead. I didn’t die.”

After a moment, Brandy sighed. “Look,” she said, stepping forward and leaning on the bar. “I know sometimes you...don’t make the smartest decisions. But if this was some kind of attempt to fake your death...well, coming back to your favorite bar was dumb, even for you.”

Raven snorted, and Janmu shot her a look.

“I didn’t fake my death,” he told Brandy. “The airship really did go down. I got lucky. I should be dead, and I would be if Raven here hadn’t been around to help me get home.”

Only now did Brandy look at Raven. “You been travelling with this woman that whole time? Weeks and weeks of travel?” she asked Janmu.

“This woman,” Raven interjected, “is named Raven, and yes, I was with him the whole time. I saw his ship go down; I was heading to Atlas anyway, and he seemed like he needed my help. Besides, it’s not every day you meet someone lucky enough to survive that kind of crash.”

Brandy cocked an eyebrow as she stared into Raven’s eyes. “You didn’t bring the ship down, did you?” she asked quietly, after a moment. 

Raven smirked. “Lady, if I’d brought his ship down, he wouldn’t be alive right now,” she replied. 

Brandy laughed, a short, sharp bark. “Janmu, I like her,” she said, as she turned to reach for a glass. “Lucky indeed. A bit older than I might have expected for you, but hey--”

Raven’s hand shot out, her hand gripping Brandy’s wrist as she tried to turn. “I’m not old,” she said, “and we’re not together. He’s a friend. But he’s not my type.”

Janmu’s heartbeat had rocketed to a deafening volume when Raven had grabbed Brandy, sure that one of the two was about to die, but even through the pounding blood in his ears, he registered the comment, and felt his heart skip a beat. Raven had called him a friend. After everything they had been through together that didn’t seem like it should have been a surprise, but this was the first time Raven had acknowledged it. He was her friend. This absurdly scary woman cared enough about him to call him her friend. That was certainly not something he would have ever predicted. 

Brandy leaned in close to Raven, her face inches from Raven’s. “Ooh,” she murmured, her voice low, “I like you even more, now. That’s my kind of attitude. Tell you what,” she said, gently pulling her hand away from Raven’s as a slight flush crept into Raven’s cheeks, “I’m guessing this is the first real dining establishment either of you have been in in weeks. Tonight’s on me.” She reached under the bar and pulled out two menus, which she slid in front of Raven and Janmu. “Start you with any drinks?”

“My usual pint,” Janmu replied, as he flipped open the menu. Usually he had the fish and chips, but as he hadn’t had any real food in weeks, he thought he ought to give the rest of the menu at least a glance.

Brandy shot him a sharp look. “I keep telling you, you don’t have to drink that pale piss. We have better beers. And tonight they’re all free for you. You really want your first beer after coming home to be  _ that _ stuff?”

“You think I want to try something new after all that? No thank you. I know what I like and I’m sticking to it,” Janmu replied, his eyes skimming the sandwich section of the menu.

Brandy sighed. “Fine. A pint of piss, coming up. And you,” she said, turning to Raven, “what do ravens drink?”

Raven pursed her lips. “They typically drink water,” she replied.

Brandy chuckled. “I’ll get you both waters, don’t worry, but you’ve got an entire bar at your disposal,” she said, gesturing at the rows of bottles behind her. “Don’t tell me there are no drinks in the world you prefer to water. Whatever it is, I can do it.”

“She likes tea,” Janmu said, as he struggled to decide between regular potato fries and sweet potato fries. 

“Janmu, this is a bar,” Raven snapped, but Brandy raised a hand.

“Oh. Ohhh,” she purred, “no. Raven, tea I can do. Tea I can most  _ certainly _ do. And,” she said, looking Raven up and down, “I think I know the right tea, too. Janmu, your beer will wait. I’m making this fine woman a hot pot of tea, first.” 

Brandy turned and strode through the door to the kitchen, and Janmu looked up from his menu. “So much for being her favorite customer,” he muttered. He turned to Raven, who was staring blankly at the kitchen door, her cheeks a light pink. “I probably should have warned you. Brandy is a force to be reckoned with. In retrospect, I should have given some thought to what introducing you two would look like.”

Raven shook herself, said nothing, and looked back down to the menu. After a moment, Janmu shrugged and turned back to his own menu. Raven had been through a lot; Brandy was probably a lot to process. He hadn’t known that Brandy carried tea, but it didn’t surprise him that she had some on hand. He had yet to see a customer request a drink that she either didn’t have or couldn’t approximate. As for himself, he decided that the safety of his usual beer meant he could be adventurous with his food order. He decided on one of the more elaborate burgers on the menu. He loved Brandy’s fried fish, but that was both very familiar and not so different from what he and Raven had been eating the last few weeks. Highly-processed meat patties, on the other hand, with an assortment of spices and ingredients that would never have grown together in the wild…that was indulgent. And he would get the sweet potato fries. Indulgent indeed. 

Several minutes later, Brandy re-emerged, a delicate porcelain teapot in one hand, and a small white teacup in the other. She set the cup in front of Raven, and carefully poured the steaming reddish-amber liquid. A fragrant aroma filled Janmu’s lungs--a warm, earthy aroma, suffused with a sweet, fruity scent and a brightly floral note. The tea smelled, as close as Janmu could tell, like happiness.

“It’s called ‘Sunset in Anima’--my own blend,” Brandy said, her face glowing with pride as Raven inhaled the aroma, her eyes sliding closed with pleasure. “It’s an herbal tea--I was inspired by some tea I had in a small village near the outer reach of Mistral the last time I took a vacation, and decided to try to recreate it here.”

Raven lifted the cup, and took a cautious sip. She sighed, and a soft moan slipped past her lips. 

Brandy grinned. “Nailed it,” she crowed. “Anyway. I’ll get your beer, Janmu. You two know what you want to eat?” 

Raven still seemed flustered, so Janmu decided he might as well order first. “I’ll have the number seven burger, with sweet potato fries,” he told Brandy. 

Brandy gave him an approving look. “Branching out from your usual, huh? I guess I can forgive the beer choice, then.” She turned to Raven. “Raven, can I get you a nice hot meal to go with the tea?”

Raven had been staring into empty space as she held the cup of tea, but when Brandy spoke, her eyes snapped back into focus and turned to the blonde bartender. “Oh, uh, well, Janmu spoke highly of your fish and chips, but….”

“...you’re concerned they won’t go well with the tea,” Brandy offered. When Raven nodded, she continued. “Well, if you want my recommendation, then, how about the chicken potato stew? It’s a smooth potato and leek soup with chicken, and it comes with bread. Something warm and savory to go with the tea.”

Raven seemed to have collected herself somewhat, and nodded approvingly at Brandy. “I can see why Janmu likes it here,” she said. “You have unusually good taste for an Atlesian. Stew it is.”

Brandy grinned, and took their menus. “That’s ‘cause I’m not Atlesian,” she replied with a wink, and sauntered back through the door into the kitchen. 

~~~

Clover finished his sandwich, and gave a satisfied sigh. Night had fallen over Atlas and Mantle, and the amber lights of the lower city sparkled beneath them. 

“What do you think the kids are up to?” he asked Qrow. 

Qrow swallowed his last bite, and crumpled up the sandwich wrapper in his hand. “Eh, I’m sure Yang and Blake found a party or club of some sort. My niece never was one to take a free evening sitting down. And Ruby probably found some of the Ace-Ops to hang out with--probably the ones on duty at Robyn’s party. As much as Yang loves to unwind, Ruby doesn’t know how to stop working.” He chuckled. “She gets that from her mom. Never could sit still when there was something to be done.” Qrow was silent for a moment, as he gazed down at Mantle. “As for the others,” he continued, “who knows? Maybe exploring the city. Maybe having a nice dinner, like we’ve had.” Qrow looked over at Clover, and smiled warmly.

Clover felt his neck flush slightly, and his pulse quickened slightly. “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he said. “It’s...I’ve wanted to have some time like this with you for a while.” He smiled at Qrow, as the other man raised an eyebrow. “You’re not just an incredible huntsman, Qrow,” he continued. “You’re also a pretty incredible person. And I feel very fortunate that I’m getting to know you, and spending time with you. Sharing this, this place, this evening, with you? It means a lot to me.”

Qrow’s cheeks had turned a vibrant pink, and he looked away, one hand rubbing nervously at his neck. “Yeah, uh… me too,” he said. He seemed to hesitate for a second, then took a deep breath. “Look,” he said, “I know I came on a little strong the other night when we had dinner. And I...I know I’m….” He gave another sigh. “Clover, I’m just gonna warn you, I’m not good at this. Being super forward, taking the initiative, like I did the other night with the kiss? That I can do. But I can’t do it all the time; relationships don’t work that way. And the other parts of a relationship? I’m not good at that. I’m out of practice. If you want this...I can’t promise that it’ll be easy. Even if my semblance weren’t a factor--I’m not necessarily an easy person to date.”

Clover frowned, and took a second to frame his response. “Thank you for being forthright with me, Qrow. I think, to the contrary, that you can tell me that says a lot. I think you might be better at relationships than you give yourself credit for. I never want you to feel pressured, or rushed--so if anything we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or you feel like it’s going too fast, that’s okay--just let me know, and we’ll slow down. But I’ll be honest myself, I didn’t think any of this would happen. I didn’t walk into this blind--I knew that you typically don’t let people get close to you, that you haven’t had a professional partner in years. I was so pleasantly surprised that we were getting close on the job, but I thought that was all it could be--that we would be friends, and you would never allow anything else to happen. And I thought maybe that was for the best! Why jeopardize something good with something risky?”

Qrow looked over at him, his eyes full of concern and anxiety. “Clover,” he said, “I--if you think this is too risky-”

“But then you kissed me,” Clover said, interrupting Qrow. Qrow’s cheeks immediately flushed a bright red. “And I realized that if there was a chance this could work, that was a chance I had to take. You’re worth it, Qrow. I understand it might be hard at times. Hell, I’m sure dating me will be its own kind of challenge. But I’m here for that work.”

Qrow smiled broadly at Clover. “C’mere,” he said softly, and Clover saw that Qrow’s eyes were glistening slightly. He obligingly leaned over towards Qrow, and Qrow reached forward, cupped Clover’s chin, and pulled him into a kiss. Clover smiled against the kiss, relishing the warm, soft feel of Qrow’s lips. He sighed happily once more as they pulled apart.

“So, uh,” Qrow said, trying and failing to hide his own sheepish smile, “how do you think the election is going?”

“As a rule, I don’t check the results until they’re all in,” said Clover, still basking happily in the warm afterglow of the kiss. He’d felt so anxious about his feelings for Qrow; to have them validated and reciprocated, here, like this, was a feeling of pure elation he wouldn’t get over anytime soon. “But I’m hopeful that the people of Mantle will see through Jacques Schnee,” he offered.

“I hope so too, but I’ve seen elections go sour enough times that I’ve learned not to be optimistic,” Qrow replied. “Either way, Jimmy’s gonna have his hands full tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome, the General will be prepared and adapt appropriately,” Clover said. It was true that both Robyn and Jacques would likely pose headaches of various sorts for the Amity Project--but those were foreseeable headaches. In Clover’s experience, James Ironwood didn’t let foreseeable problems get in the way. Cinder had only gotten an upper hand in Beacon because there had been no way to know the attack was coming--and it was still a mystery how she and Roman Torchwick gained access to the military computer systems. Clover was confident that neither Jacques nor Robyn had tricks of that magnitude up their sleeves. For all that Robyn was capable and clever, everything she had shown them so far suggested she and her team were simply Hunters, the same as him and Qrow. 

“Yeah, Jimmy always has a plan,” Qrow muttered. “That doesn’t mean his plans are always good. Especially when he’s overworked.”

“You’ve noticed it, too?” Clover asked.

“Hard not to,” Qrow replied. “I’ve known Jimmy for a long time. I can tell when he’s stressed, and when he’s stressed, he doesn’t make good decisions. He makes decisions that put people in danger.”

Clover frowned. It was true that General Ironwood was under enormous stress, and Clover had to admit that some of his recent reactions had been less confidently smooth than usual. But he didn’t like to think of Ironwood as somebody who became a liability under pressure--that wasn’t the man he knew. It wasn’t the superior he trusted. “I don’t know, Qrow,” he objected cautiously, “he’s under pressure, yes, but I’ve never known General Ironwood to make rash decisions or put people in danger. I trust him implicitly--as much as I trust the other Ace-Ops. I would trust James with my life more than pretty much anyone else.”

Qrow gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, but Cloves, you’re in the military and he’s your superior. You’re supposed to trust him; that’s your job. You’ve said as much.”

Clover shook his head. “No, beyond my job. James is fallible, sure--as much as any of us. But he’s also a kind, thoughtful man. He doesn’t rush into things, and he always places other people above himself. 

“It’s less how he makes his decisions that bothers me, and more the decisions he ends up making,” Qrow objected.

“So you disagree with his methods--that’s fine!” Clover responded. He could sense in the back of his mind that this conversation was going nowhere good, and part of him wanted to change the topic. But he really did strongly feel that Ironwood could be trusted--and he wanted to share that part of himself with Qrow. “But the fact remains,” he continued,” that James is good at his job, he takes the welfare of others more seriously than anyone else who’s held his position, and people here are better-off for his leadership. Isn’t that evidence enough that he can be trusted? Who do we trust if not someone like that?”

Qrow’s mouth twitched, his face betraying a hint of disgust. “What, so just because his mistakes haven’t gotten anyone killed, he can be trusted?” he retorted. “Didn’t you just say the other day that you thought he needed someone looking over his shoulder? I know it’s not your job to be that person, but that doesn’t mean you have to give him blind trust, either!”

Clover knit his brow in frustration. Qrow wasn’t wrong, he just--he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what Clover understood about Ironwood--about the man’s motivations, and why he would never let his own judgment put others in harm’s way. “Look,” he began. “It’s not blind. I’ve worked with General Ironwood for years. He’s never given me reason to question his judgment--”

“--all the secrets, all the military power, the police in Mantle, those aren’t reasons?” Qrow interrupted.

“He has good reasons for those, even if not everyone agrees,” replied Clover irritably, then continued. “He has however given me reason to trust him. Do you know why half of his body is a prosthetic?”

“He was seriously injured years ago. Part of a Faunus uprising,” Qrow replied. “It’s common knowledge. His involvement putting down that uprising by the way, also something that should make you question the wisdom of putting your trust in him so completely.”

“I was there when he was injured,” Clover said. “James doesn’t talk about it much, because the way he sees it, he failed.”

Clover took a deep breath. This was the first time he had spoken to anyone else about that mission--even he and Ironwood rarely discussed it. Ironwood preferred that it stay in the past--his prosthetics were enough of a reminder. But Clover wanted Qrow to trust him--and to understand why James Ironwood mattered so much to him, why he placed his absolute loyalty in Ironwood. 

“I was still only a corporal, back then,” Clover began. “I was assigned to a team under James, who was just a lieutenant at the time. We got along well from the start--he saw me for who I am, rather than my semblance. My personality was always what he cared about. He once told me that I could have the worst luck in the world, but as long as I was trustworthy, loyal, and dedicated to helping people, that would still set me apart from others in his eyes, and he would rather put his trust in someone like that over anyone else.”

Qrow nodded. “That’s Jimmy, alright,” he said. “I may have my qualms, but I think he forgot my semblance existed as soon as I’d finished telling him about it. Well,” he chuckled, “except he did put the two of us together.”

Clover smiled. “Yeah. He sees people for who they are. And for me, the Golden Boy of Atlas, nothing more than a semblance to so many people...that mattered. Anyway, Jacques Schnee had recently taken over his father-in-law’s company, and he was, as you know, less keen on treating his employees like people than his predecessor had been. Especially the Faunus. The miners were getting a raw deal, and one day they decided to take control of the mine and refused to let any ore make it to SDC refineries. Jacques Schnee of course had friends in high places--so Ironwood and his team were ordered to go secure the mine.

“I know James could have refused. But you know James--he thought that if he didn’t do it, someone else would. He told me that it was better him than someone else who wouldn’t see the miners as people worth protecting. I know that he hoped we could resolve the situation without anyone getting hurt.”

“Dozens of people were killed,” Qrow said, his brow furrowed. “How did it go from not wanting anyone to get hurt to having that many dead?”

Clover shook his head sadly. “The miners refused to budge. They knew what they wanted, and that was for the SDC to meet their demands for better pay and safer working conditions. There was nothing James could say to convince them to back down--not even pointing out that staying in the mine was more dangerous than their normal working conditions, let alone the safety they were asking for. Things got heated, and we had our orders. James told us to begin herding the miners out of the area we were in, hoping to eventually push them to the mine’s entrance. The miners resisted--and in a tussle between one of the miners and one of our soldiers, a support beam got knocked loose. James saw it was going to land on a bunch of crates of Dust ore--and he knew that if it hit that Dust, the entire mine would go. He ordered us all to get clear, and then put himself between the beam and the crates. If he hadn’t done that, and all that Dust had exploded all at once, hundreds of people would have died. Myself included.

“But when the beam hit him...he couldn’t completely protect the crates. One of them got knocked off the stack, and broke open when it hit the ground. When those Dust crystals came tumbling out... there was nothing anyone could have done. It wasn’t as big an explosion as if the support beam had hit all the ore...but a lot of people died nonetheless, and James lost half his body. Most of the dead were mine workers. It was bad luck that it happened,” Clover said, miserably. “Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I’d been faster with my semblance, but...the way things happened, I don’t think my semblance would have been enough. The rest, you know. The miners who survived saw the lopsided casualties, and that was all the reason they needed to push back even harder--and violently. And James was right--without him there to push for restraint, the military responded the only way we know how.”

Qrow stayed silent for some time. Clover assumed he was processing--it wasn’t the version of the story most of the public knew. Eventually, Qrow looked up at Clover.

“If that’s what happened...how did James survive?” Qrow asked. “He was closest to the blast.”

Clover laughed ruefully. “That’s Atlas for you,” he replied. “We could have saved more lives if the miners had gotten the same treatment James did. But that kind of treatment is expensive.”

“The top brass didn’t see the miners’ lives as worth the expense,” Qrow suggested grimly.

“Yeah,” Clover said with a sigh. “They were willing to give James the best Atlas had to offer. He was one of them. Not so much the Faunus miners from Mantle. That’s never sat well with James--he’d rather everyone have access to that kind of care. It’s part of why he rose so high through the ranks; he felt he needed to make things right. It’s why he gives Dr. Polendina the funding and resources to run his clinic down in Mantle.”

“And you? How did that sit with you?” Qrow asked. “You saw how the military responded to the miners when James was out of the picture. You’ve seen how little Atlas values the less fortunate. Why did you stay?”

“I stayed because of James,” Clover said, locking eyes with Qrow. “Atlesians aren’t all the same, Qrow. Yes, many of those in the Atlas elite look down on Mantle. But not all of them. Not James. James doesn’t talk about what happened in the mine because he thinks he failed. If he had been better at defusing the situation, or if he had prevented that crate from getting knocked over, those miners would still be alive. Their children would have grown up with their parents. James didn’t disobey his orders, because he thought he could use his position to do good for everyone--both those who live in Atlas and those who live in Mantle. Human and Faunus. He still thinks that way. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect people--to protect Remnant. I’m not loyal to Atlas--I’m loyal to James. Because not only did he save my life, but he was willing to give his own life to save the lives of countless others; people he had never met, with whom he had little in common. I think that’s a man worth trusting.”

Qrow looked out over Mantle, his fingers idly tracing a small fissure in the rock next to him. Clover searched his face, looking for a hint of the impact the story had had on him. He needed Qrow to understand. To trust. Qrow’s face was smooth, unexpressive, but his eyes didn’t seem to focus on any one part of Mantle, instead flicking back and forth across the landscape. It was a lot to process--it seemed like Qrow really was considering what Clover had told him.

Finally, Qrow sighed. “I’ve...known Jimmy for a long time,” he said. “He never talked about his injury. I don’t even know if Oz knew what happened in that mine. I get why you trust him.” Qrow turned and looked Clover in the eyes. “I really do get it. He’s a good guy.”

Clover exhaled. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath.

“But,” Qrow said, looking away again, “good people can make mistakes. Can make bad decisions. And they can lose sight of what matters. For all that James Ironwood wants to help people, he still thinks Atlas’s military might is the way to do it--and good luck convincing him otherwise. Clover, this Amity Tower project has me worried. James is committing a lot of resources--some that could be useful down in Mantle. And with the stress, and the fear that time is running out...what if he makes a mistake? Issues orders that put people in danger? What do we do then?”

Clover’s heart sank. They were back where they started. “Qrow, I trust him not to,” he insisted. “That’s what loyalty means--trusting him to make the right decision!”

“Having good intentions and having wisdom aren’t the same thing!” Qrow shot back.

“No, they’re not,” Clover agreed, “but James has both. I’ve seen it, Qrow. I’ve seen him show the wisdom to exercise restraint, and the selflessness to do the right thing--no matter the cost to himself.”

“And what about the cost to others?” Qrow asked quietly.

“What?” Clover asked, surprised by the question--he’d thought the answer was implicit in his description of James’s selflessness.

“What if doing the right thing means hurting innocent people?” Qrow asked. “Isn’t that why you think Robyn should be on the Council?”

“I mean, yes, but--”

“What if James issues an order that’s well-intentioned, and might work, but jeopardizes the people of Mantle and Atlas--or the people we care about?” Qrow asked, earnestly. “What if there’s another, better way, and James won’t see it because he’s so focused on the task at hand, at doing what he’s already decided is the right thing--what then? If I stand up to him--or the kids stand up to him, try to stop him from doing the  _ wrong _ thing, even though he thinks it's the right thing--will you side with him? Or will you help  _ me _ do the right thing--and help me keep my kids safe?”

Clover stared at Qrow. The idea of having to  _ choose _ between Qrow and Ironwood tore him apart. Qrow, this man who was so wonderful, so suave and sharp and caring, and whom Clover thought might be the only person in the world who really understood what it was like to have a semblance like his own--and James, the man who had taught Clover the importance of loyalty, of selfless dedication to helping others. The choice was impossible. Clover trusted Ironwood, and he also felt that he could trust Qrow. That meant believing that each would do the right thing, and supporting and helping them put their plans into action. Couldn’t Qrow trust him in return? Trust him to place his loyalty in trustworthy people? “Qrow, I don’t know,” he sighed. “I really don’t. I don’t want to have to make that choice! And how can I know, without knowing the details? Isn’t it enough right now, that we’re all trying? That James is doing the best he can? That I trust him, having worked with him for years?”

Qrow returned Clover’s gaze, and Clover saw pain and sadness in his eyes. Seeing Qrow like this, hunched over in his protective anxiety, he felt he understood more of Qrow--the small wrinkles around his eyes that didn’t quite match the crow’s feet of someone who had spent a lifetime laughing, the way Qrow’s red eyes went wide when Clover complimented him, told him that he trusted him. Clover understood that Qrow hadn’t only worked alone all those years because it was simpler. It was to avoid getting hurt--to avoid having to trust, and to be disappointed. Clover’s heart broke, as he thought of the depth of the pain Qrow must carry every day. But couldn’t he see that Clover could help him carry that pain? That life didn’t have to be an endless tale of loneliness and disappointment?

Qrow sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to choose, not right now. And you probably won’t have to--at least not right away. We still have some time before we have to worry about Salem.” He smiled weakly at Clover. “But I do hope that if that time comes, you’ll choose to do the right thing--and that the way you feel about Ironwood won’t get in the way.”

Clover gave a small smile. It was a small truce, but a truce. Gods, how had they gotten to this point? He had wanted this date to be a pleasant distraction, not bring their disagreements into focus. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s not worry about it right now. Let’s change the subject.”

Qrow nodded, and took a deep breath. “I, uh... you said you’ve been up here a lot. And that was pretty slick, what you did with Kingfisher down in Mantle, the night we had sushi,” he began.

Clover raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” he prompted.

“Have you ever considered sliding down one of those tethers?” Qrow asked, grinning and pointing to one of the enormous cables holding Atlas in place.

Clover laughed. He opened to his mouth to answer, and then closed it. His scroll was vibrating angrily in his pocket. He pulled out the scroll to see what needed his attention so urgently, and saw that Qrow had also pulled out his own scroll. He saw the color and mirth drain from Qrow’s face, and he looked down at his own scroll. His heart sank. That was the end of their date, then.

~~~

Raven pushed away her bowl, satisfied and truly full for the first time in weeks. She sat back happily in her seat, a deep warmth suffusing her bones. Brandy had outdone herself with this tea blend. One sip, and Raven had felt that she was back home, relaxing outside her tent on a late summer evening, feeling the gentle warmth of the setting sun’s golden light wash over her, as a slight breeze toyed with the feathery fringes of her hair. Raven suspected that her stew had also been incredible, but it had been so long since she had had a real meal, and the tea had been so overwhelmingly good, that she felt sure her assessment of the food was biased by the circumstances. Still--it had hit the spot.

Beside her, Janmu had polished off his burger and fries, and was happily downing the last dregs of his beer. Raven turned toward him in her seat, resting her elbow on the bar.

“So, cityboy,” she said, as he set his glass down. “You said this was the bar where you told jokes?”

“That is a thing I said, yes,” Janmu replied, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I see a microphone over there,” Raven said, nodding towards the far side of the dining room. “Nobody’s using it.”

“Wait, what?” Janmu exclaimed, whipping his head around. “What? But…no, no--I brought my own…”

“I put that there,” Brandy said from behind them, as she reached across the bar to collect their empty dishes.

“But... Brandy,” Janmu objected, “people didn’t like my jokes! You remember! Why would you--what--”

“Partly it was a memorial to you,” she replied, her back to Raven and Janmu as she lowered their dishes into a tub of dirty dishes. “But mostly it was in the hopes that someone else would try it.” When Janmu didn’t respond, she explained, “people spent a lot of money on drinks when you told jokes. Especially expensive, stiff drinks. It just seemed like a good business decision to try to replicate that.”

“And did anyone else try it?” Raven asked.

“Nobody,” Brandy said. “I was starting to think that maybe I should try booking some musical acts, though of course then I’d have to give the musicians free drinks, and they’d want some pay, and it just seemed like a lot. But if you’re back, Janmu, then I think Raven’s right”--Raven smiled warmly at Brandy--”and you should go tell some jokes.”

“I--oh I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Janmu stammered. “I mean I just got back--”

“Janmu!” Raven snapped. “You faced down a teryx while telling jokes, and then you kept us alive and safe with your stories after the glacier collapsed--”

“Yeah and I have no idea how that happened, and wait what do you mean I did that? You asked for the stories; I didn’t do anything besides tell them!”

Raven chuckled. He still hadn’t realized, then. Raven glanced over at Brandy, briefly locking eyes with her. Brandy seemed to have connected the dots herself, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Janmu,” Raven said softly, “I think that was your semblance.” Janmu’s eyes went wide, and Raven continued, “when you started telling stories in that rock crevice, you didn’t see, but your Aura lit up. The warmth we felt--that wasn’t because we were close together; it was your semblance. And I’m pretty sure it was because of your semblance that I started to find your jokes funny.”

“Weird way to say you don’t think I’m funny, but I’ll take it, I guess,” Janmu replied with a shrug. He smiled to himself. “Well dang. I have a semblance.”

“Everyone has a semblance,” Brandy interjected.

“Thank you Brandy, I knew that, I meant it’s nice to know what mine is. So, what,” he asked Raven, “you think if I go up there and use my semblance, people will think I’m funny?”

“And it seems,” she replied, “that they’ll have a good time, or at least better than they were having.”

“Which means they’ll order more drinks,” added Brandy. “Alright, Janmu, I’m convinced; you’re the evening’s entertainment. Get your butt up there.”

Janmu sighed, heaved himself off his seat, and walked over to the microphone. He gave it an experimental tap, and said, “Hi, hello, is this thing on? Okay, yes, good evening everyone, my name is Janmu Laney, and boy do I have a story to tell you…”

Raven settled back into her seat as Janmu launched into a bit, and let the warmth of the moment wash over her. She knew from the Grimm on the glacier that soon, there would be no more moments like this, not here in the Kingdom of Atlas. That made this moment all the more precious.

As Janmu delivered a punchline, Raven heard a loud whoop behind her.

“Tell another one, handsome young fella!” the voice cried. Raven turned in her seat--a small, elderly woman was seated at a nearby table, alongside a larger man in a wheelchair. The smaller woman wore a pair of glowing mechanical goggles, which were fixated on Janmu. Raven smiled to herself, and turned back to keep watching the show.

“I have to say, he’s a lot funnier than he used to be,” Brandy said softly from beside her. Raven glanced over--Brandy had come around the bar and taken a seat next to her. “I don’t know what happened with the two of you out there--but this isn’t the kid I knew before. He couldn’t tell a good joke to save his life.”

“He learned to be a little more confident,” Raven replied, as Janmu strolled across the stage, microphone in hand, as his audience roared with laughter. “And he learned to think a little more.”

Brandy laughed. “Well, that’s certainly an improvement,” she said. “Thank you. For bringing him back. And for helping him grow like this. It’s true that business hurt a little bit without his bad jokes driving people to drink, but really, I always felt a little protective of the guy. He could often be a bit naive, and as a bartender, you learn to read people pretty well.”

Raven turned to look at Brandy. Brandy’s golden-brown eyes locked with Raven’s, and Raven saw deep appreciation in them. “I did my best to keep him alive,” Raven replied with a shrug, “but the confidence is his. I guess it was that or get killed by Grimm. I won’t deny that we had some close calls--if he had just folded up, he would have died.”

“Don’t deflect the compliment,” Brandy said with a small wink. “People don’t just become confident; he picked it up somewhere. And like I said, bartenders are good at reading people. And I think he lucked out when you found him.”

Raven was about to respond, when the sound of the audience shifted--no longer was the room filled with laughs and cheers, but instead gasps, shrieks, and muffled angry shouts. Raven and Brandy’s heads snapped toward the dining room. Numerous hands were pointed at the muted election night broadcast on the television, and people rose from their seats in a mess of urgent confusion.

Raven looked up at the television. The screen showed a large warehouse room, its floor littered with bodies. On a brightly-lit stage at the front of the warehouse, a young woman with bright orange hair and a green dress stood over someone, a ring of glowing green blades floating in the air around her. And a short ways away on the stage, kneeling over someone else, was Ruby Rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted in the author's note before the chapter, there is no visual guide to the pohawai in this chapter, because they're actually not a real temtem species from the game--when I wrote this, no rock+flying temtem existed, so I made up my own. I feel quite vindicated in that the new temtem released since I wrote that part include a rock+flying species.


End file.
